


Consort

by Kit_SummerIsle



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Mpreg, Spark Sex, Sticky Sex, arranged bond, dub-con, greekverse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-05
Updated: 2015-10-07
Packaged: 2017-11-13 14:54:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 14
Words: 52,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/504710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kit_SummerIsle/pseuds/Kit_SummerIsle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The ruler of Kaon takes a consort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Celebration

**Author's Note:**

> Greekverse http://greekverse.deviantart.com/ is a kind of a Cybertron verse, where the Great War never happened, there are not Autobots or Decepticons, because all cities are independent city-states with royalty or similar leadership, who compete with every other city-state diplomatically and sometimes aggressively. The characters are more or less a mixture of G1 verse with a touch of TF:A. Optimus is not a Prime here, he is smaller, younger and called Optronix.)

The bonding ceremony was an extremely awkward affair with most mechs thinking violent thoughts about the other half of the attendance, including the bondeds-to-be, the attendant sires and carriers. That it was often times similar in arranged bondings didn’t make Optronix any happier, as this time it was his spark in the line of fire. So to speak. It was an even stranger and frightening affair than his great-uncle’s similar ceremony a century ago that he had been lucky not to attend on account of being too young for it. That one had ended in an energon-bath, decimating both families. He hoped that this time they could somehow avoid that outcome. 

Glancing to his right and up, way up to his soon-to-be-bonded he wasn’t sure. Megatron’s face was stormy with a snarl that seemed to be carved into his faceplates, his servos tightened into fists every now and then and his red optics shot absolutely killing glowers towards Optronix’s Sire. Ultra Magnus wore a distinctly smug expression and Optronix wondered if his Sire didn’t perceive the danger that he was in – or dismissed it as unimportant. He continued to empty high-grade cubes and congratulate on the nearby mechs on the fine drinks, the treats and everything he could think of. That nobody deigned to give him answers apparently left him uninterested.

He could blackmail Kaon into accepting the bonding, because Megatron couldn’t afford Iacon to stab him in the back while he was hip-deep in the Tarn campaign, but he wouldn’t live long right here if Megatron decided that the insult was greater than the advantages. Optronix saw it clearly and he was no politician, so why not his Sire? Was there something still that he kept as a hidden trump card, that gave him safety, even as Megatron looked like wanting to deactivate him right there or was it just simple obtuseness?

Optronix tried another energon treat from the platter, but it was the same as the other dozens he tried before; rich in Cybertronium, Kaon’s main produce, the source of its wealth, it must have been very healthy, but it didn’t improve the taste one single bit. He definitely missed the quite useless but sweet to taste Aluminum-based jellies from home. At least the energon was good, he mused, watching his Sire throwing back another cube of the fabled Blackfire brand, famous for knocking out bigger mechs than his Sire after a few cubes.

Well, he wouldn’t have to perform at the end, Optronix supposed, internally trembling at the thought. So far the young mech drank only a small cube of the stuff, and while it tasted like manna, it did have a nasty kick afterwards. Considering the occasion, he didn’t mind it, he thought, washing down the taste of the treat with another cube. He was an adult mech now, at his bonding at that and no caretaker could scold him for drinking it.

The rest of the ceremony with the speeches and recitals dragged away slower than a lecture from Prowl about decorum in the palace. What Optronix would’ve given to hear his lessons again, a thousand times, instead of this! But there was no going back for him, not ever. In a joor or so he’d be legally bound to Megatron and in an orn or so… he tried not to think about it, not to cast another nervous glance on the warlord’s huge, silver-burgundy frame. His bonded-to-be was at least twice his size, hating him for the position that his Sire put them and considering him a weak, simpering Iaconian not even good for bearing his heirs. Not very good portents for one’s bonding night. 

They were trying to keep him in the dark so far, both his Sire so he wouldn’t protest to the almost-forced bonding and Megatron as well, not considering him an equal, a worthy mate for him by Kaonite standards. Unfortunately Optronix paid attention and heard much that they agreed on. He wouldn’t be Megatron’s mate, not truly, not even Ultra Magnus’s blackmail could make him agree to that. A consort, a chattel only, a mech to warm his berth until he could bear sparklings for him, but never to be cherished or loved.

But he couldn’t refuse. His Sire made sure that he knew the alternative should he protest against this bond. Optronix shuddered. It was no choice really. Bond to Megatron and be his consort and at least be free of his Sire’s strict yoke - or be given to his worst suitor, the mech who harassed him for vorns and was besides Ultra’s right-hand mech, Blitzwing. He’d rather choose Megatron thank you. At least with the warlord his fate was not certain to be dark and bleak. Only likely.

They stood up to say their vows and Optronix was embarrassed by having to stand on his chair to be anything close to Megatron’s level and saw the sneering Kaonite faceplates around because of it. Truly, he was like a youngling beside the massive mech – which he actually was, hardly even legit for bonding, while Megatron looked like, felt like and probably was a thousand vorns old, surpassing him in experiences as well as… well, everything really.

It didn’t help that he found himself attracted to the huge, silvery mech, on a level he couldn’t express. He was frightening and crude, unlike any ruler Optronix met so far, a warrior rather than a statesmech. Still, he looked capable and his people were obviously ferociously loyal to him to the point where his Sire couldn’t get a single spy into his court. He also exuded power, self-belief and a raw, almost brutal sensuality that had Optronix stare and gulp uneasily the first time they met.

They met first in his Sire’s court, the first time when Megatron tried to entice Iacon into his planned campaign to conquer the nearby city-states. Optronix was still a youngster back then, only allowed into the throne-room to learn from the proceedings, as even his Sire admitted his natural affinity to leadership and politics. Even though he wasn’t going to be Iacon’s ruler ever, as he had elder siblings, they thought that he might be able to utilize that gained knowledge and insight later.

Or so he thought. Too late for that now. He’d never be anything but a chattel in the warlord’s berth, maybe even in his harem if he wanted one later. Kaonites despised Iaconians for their smaller statue, their reluctance to learn the warrior arts and their inclination towards peace and prosperity. No matter that he was big for an Iaconian, he’d always be tiny in the Kaon court. No matter that he’d trained in several martial arts, he’d be a child’s play to beat by the smallest Kaonite.

Optronix sighed. If only he could prove his worth somehow… but Megatron didn’t look like wanting to give him chances and frankly neither did the other members of the court. Shockwave measured him up with a cold, calculating glance that made him want to run away and hide in the nearest hole. Dreadnought looked at him like one who sees a cyberfly on his oil-cake and itches to casually flatten it. The rest all wore expressions that varied just little on that theme really.

Megatron growled his vow almost, holding Optronix’s servo in his bigger one, almost crushing it in tandem with his snarl at the end. He could barely hold back a pained grimace before he too swore to be a faithful mate for him and all the empty promises that were agreed on in his name. Could he mean it when he had no say in what to tell? He had to. Breaking the vow in any way would mean his instant execution and Megatron was perfectly capable of levelling Iacon if he felt insulted, Primus forbid cheated. 

Looking at the mech again, Optronix decided to make an effort. It was his fate now and he must make the best of it. Megatron might hate his Sire for this farce but he too would be bound to Optronix and they might be able to learn to live with each other. In a few joors they’d see each other’s spark, all their memories, dreams and intentions. Love was maybe too much to hope for, but they didn’t have to be enemies. Optronix snatched one more cube of high-grade from the table before they were led out to the designated quarters. He needed some strengthening before… before he got in that berth with Megatron.

No matter his determination to make it work that part still caused nervous fluttering in his tank, like he was going to his execution, not his bonding. The punch that the cube of Blackfire gave to his systems barely dampened his trembling, his anxiousness, his outright fear. Optronix knew that he shouldn’t show his fear, because that would make Megatron despise him even more, but he could hardly mask it – and he was sure that the warlord saw right through his trembling façade.


	2. Sobering

The way to his new quarters led through long and empty corridors, devoid of life, dark in the coming night cycle, in a strange contrast to the still noisy and lively throne-room that they’d just left. Megatron was silent and Optronix didn’t know what to say either, no matter how he wracked his processor for something to break the heavy silence. The warlord’s bodyguards followed them until the door and stood aside when they stepped through it. It must have been a nice room but Optronix couldn’t see it or say anything, as his voice box seemed to constrict in fear and anxiety.

Megatron moved on, to the second room and the third and Optronix finally recognized something that stood out in clear strokes even in his dazed stupor – a huge berth fitting in size to his… bonded-to-be. His fear attacked in waves, alternating with a strange elation that he wasn’t sure where it came from. He moved over to the berth in a daze, as the warlord apparently didn’t want to talk or in any way dispel his fear. Optronix knew that the first time was supposed to hurt, he had plenty of elder siblings and friends who told him about the seals and how it was supposed to go. If Megatron was in any way proportionate, it’d hurt a lot. 

“M-megatron…” – Pit he still didn’t know what he wanted to say. Just stalling, just saying anything to postpone the inevitable a little more, maybe make him a little less angry… “C-could I have some more high-grade?”  
“Didn’t you drink enough in the banquet?” – Megatron growled angrily – “I wasn’t aware that my intended is a drunkard.”  
Optronix was totally embarrassed, as it came out very badly. – “I’m not! I’m just… just…”  
“Just what?!?” – a scowl on the faceplates that Optronix, even in his fear found attractive.   
“Afraid…”  
Megatron looked at him with a glance that spoke volumes. Great, now he was considered a coward too. This evening truly couldn’t get any worse. But Optronix still tried.  
“I… I… thought that we could… like talk a bit first?”  
“Talk.” – Megatron’s stare became downright terrifying and Optronix took a step backwards. – “Talking all the time like your worthless liar of a sire, are you?”  
“N-no! I thought that… I hoped that… we don’t have to be enEMIES!” – he yelped the last of the word as he was pushed backwards onto the berth. Oh, Primus, he was so scrapped. The still growling Megatron filled his whole field of vision and the great frame covered his slighter, smaller one, moving with a surprising speed for one so big. He didn’t look the least kinder or calmer than before and Optronix’s fear started to swallow him in earnest. He wasn’t aroused at all and he started to lose fast that strange attraction too that he felt earlier towards the silver mech. 

“Open it.” – it was an order not a request. Frag, he hasn’t even touched him first, like it was supposed to go. He knew the touches that aroused his frame, he experimented this much for awhile now. Without it, he was in for a Pit of a pain, Optronix was sure, but he had no way to avoid it now. Better get it over as fast as he would… he sent the command to open his interface panel, revealing his sealed spike and the pristine valve. The rest of him was already trembling in anticipation of the pain that it was sure to come. He looked in utter helplessness up at the warlord moving over him, settling his huge, silver frame between his spread legs.

-o-o-o-

Megatron paused as he settled himself over the slighter, trembling, obviously very young mech. For a breem he thought clearly, calmer now that he didn’t have to think about that vile Iaconian ruler who left the palace straight after the celebrations. For the first time he contemplated the mech he so far paid little to no attention – the one he’d have to bond with soon. Optronix, he had to admit was easy on the optics, in fact almost beautiful, if he forgot just how small the mech was. Young too, barely a legal adult and fearing the interface. A bit of a bumbler apparently, but that could be because of his apparent fear. 

He snorted, high grade flaming his attitude and dispelling the more forgiving mood in a klik. Typical cowardly, simpering, little Iaconians. Civilians. Theoreticians. Politicians. Hahh. No Kaonite would show his fear to anyone, not even if he was in stark terror. It was simply not their way, not the warrior way. And he had to call this simpering weakling his mate… that he was young should be no excuse from cowardice. His lighter mood was gone as fast as it came and Megatron suddenly thrust a clawed digit into the bared valve, expertly breaking the seal fast. 

He held the jerking frame down with one servo and his greater mass and added one more digit to loosen the tightly spasming valve. Frag, he was so small, smaller even than most pleasurebots. It would take a while before he could take that tight, untouched, unlubricated valve without causing him serious damage and frankly, he wasn’t in a patient mood. The third digit joined to its mates and Optronix keened loud in pain, trying to get rid of the intruders, unsuccessfully of course. He was going too fast, Megatron knew, curling his digits inside, but he didn’t care much. Just get over this farce and he’ll call Hook to patch him up. 

Pulling out his digits he saw the momentary, slight relief on the smaller mech’s face before he realized what the leaving of the digits meant. The exotic, blue optics widened impossibly big before he pushed his spike in and the relief was lost in a horrible scream of agony. He covered the small mouth with his own, thrusting his glossa in to muffle the unpleasant sound. He was still somewhat careful and didn’t thrust inside him in one motion, rocking his hips slowly instead, to ease the process for him.

Apparently it didn’t help much because he felt the frantic clawing of the blue servos on his black plates and the desperate trashing to get free. He couldn’t do it of course, there was zero chance for him to push the stronger and heavier Megatron off him. But at least he was fighting back, he thought, when the small dentas bit a little wound into his lip-plates. Megatron approved of it, as it was much closer to what he wanted than the mindless fear. It made him believe that he was dominating a worthy mate instead of a meek wimp.

As his charge grew Megatron gradually forgot who he was fragging and ceased to be careful even so much as he was earlier. Optronix whimpered weakly as the warlord’s glossa left his mouth and his struggling was definitely lessening. His optics were clenched shut and leaking coolant tears, the blue servos barely scratching his plates now instead of clawing shrieking tracks into them. There was energon smeared on their tights and pooling on the berth, but it was expected with the seal-breaking, so Megatron didn’t worry about it. 

“Open up.” – he demanded again, rapping a digit on the red front plates, blowing hot air from his vents, voice slightly strained from the arousal and the exertion. Optronix didn’t look like he heard or understood the demand, but his chestplates opened, sluggishly, like he’d rather do anything else. Megatron thrust in his valve viciously, and as he bowed his back up in pain, he slammed his chest down on the rising, blue spark. 

-o-o-o-

It was way beyond simple pain and well into the realm of spark-breaking agony. Optronix thought that the sudden, slight tearing and the jolt of spasming hurt that accompanied it was acceptable, more bearable even than he’d thought. There went his seal and good riddance. But what followed was way beyond his worst nightmares. The digits that with their sharp talons scratched unpleasant tracks of burning lines into the valve walls that never felt anything in them before. The lining that tried to stretch as the stimulus demanded but there was only so much give in the dry material before it tore. The arousal that started to build up at first but was crushed by the growing unease that stemmed from the discomfort.

The unpleasantness quickly grew to the point of throbbing pain that went on for a few kliks before Megatron pulled his digits out. The relief was short-lived, as he realized that something even bigger was going to follow them – but his thoughts thoroughly shattered when Megatron’s spike stretched and tore the rim of his valve and with a sharp burst of pure agony, it pushed inside. Optronix couldn’t stop screaming before a hot mouth slammed onto his and an aggressive glossa muffled his voice. Not that it made the pain go away. 

The huge spike pushed in slowly, making every excruciating centimeter into a new measure for agony. Optronix felt the valve walls protest and burn as they tried to stretch, but tore instead under the pressure to accommodate the huge intruder. Every klik became a veritable eternity. Every movement of his tormented body a testament for pain. Every sensor was vying frantically to fire its signal of excruciating pain into his meta. A howling abyss was slowly swallowing him alive as his processor started to misfire and glitch in the sea of agony.

The young mech didn’t even realize how his servos cramped into claws and tried to claw his tormentor. His pedes beat a useless staccato on the berth until they couldn’t move any more. His lithe frame trashed in useless tries to throw Megatron off of him. But he was smaller and weaker and his frantic attempts just encouraged the warlord to go on faster, harder, heedless of his screams that tumbled from his lips in a continuous stream. It was a small eternity before he dimly heard the order again, to start the next chapter of this torture.

He was helpless to fight him, helpless to resist him, helpless to stop the pain. Optronix gave up and prayed in his shattered mind for it to end soon. He found the command somewhere that he’s never used before and his spark was bared too for this monster to use. Maybe he’d see the pain and he’d relent… but he should have thought that it was a vain hope.

A vicious thrust painted a new, brighter tear in the canvas of pain and he bowed his back up, unwittingly offering his spark to Megatron. His vocalizer cut off in a burst of static, unable to scream any more. The angry red orb of energy swallowed his weakening, light blue one like a sharkticon would a petrorabbit, merciless, cruel and uncaring. It didn’t feel like a merge, it felt like being burned alive and melted down to slag.

Megatron felt like a bunch of angry energy, out to ensnare him in its choking grasp. He felt nothing of the mech himself, nothing that Optronix expected, nothing really alive or feelings that he could relate to or work with – only malicious intentions, angry rage and uncaring, hungry pleasure. He didn’t know what the warlord felt but for his part he never wanted to repeat the experience. 

The tainted, dark energy of the forced charge grew though and dragged Optronix along with the feedback, with its reverberations in his spark, his valve, throughout his suffering frame. He couldn’t even scream any more, his feeble, weak movements stilled too, as his programming drew all his remaining energy from the extremities, into his spark, where the hungry predator swallowed it. 

The rush of the scalding hot, burning transfluid into his torn, stinging valve was almost a welcome feeling as it heralded the end of this torture at last. It was followed by the explosion that apparently took place in his spark and spread its molten fire all over his frame, to fry everything that was still working. Finally, Optronix felt himself falling into a blessedly cold, silent abyss, followed by a roar that seemed to pursue him. But he was free at last. It was over.


	3. Aftermath

Optronix was fairly sure that he was deactivated. After what happened he wanted to be dead. But as he floated through the layers of consciousness, he started to dread one thing… that he might still be alive and moreover moving towards onlining. He definitely didn’t want that either. It was so calm and peaceful in this dark abyss, wherever it was. Pain-free most of all. He didn’t want to leave it and go back to the world of burning pain and screaming agony. But the process didn’t stop, no matter how he willed it so.

Well, at least the dark didn’t change. The pain was different too; instead of tearing him apart and burning him up it toned down a bit into a sharp , burning throb all though his frame, centering near his spark and… as he started to think of it, spasming through his valve. Or what used to be his valve, as he was fairly sure that Megatron shredded it to tatters. Optronix was alarmed to realize that he was feeling absolutely nothing past his hip joints, unable to move his legs in the slightest.

Not that the rest of him was any more responsive, but at least he felt his arms, as though they were turned into lead and far too heavy to move, and some of his torso plates pinged back with – he wanted to laugh but it came out as a choking, wretched sob – dents of all things. The only part that was more or less pain-free was his helm, where it was just his voice box that felt like scrubbed with steel wool and doused with acid. The result of so much screaming that it fritzed out many times, he supposed.

He tried to switch on his optics and only after a few unsuccessful tries did Optronix realize that they were already online and it was the room that was draped in pitch-black darkness. He gave a small thanks to Primus that he felt or heard no sign of Megatron in the room. After a few kliks of sluggish thinking he retracted the thanks – the slagger didn’t deserve it. Not after last night. Maybe not ever, since he was alive, meaning that he’d have to go through it again and again. He shuddered at that thought, or at least tried to.

After trying to move and failing totally in it, he gave up. As sensors came back online they all started to clamor for his attention, sending their pain signals to his processor, which could do nothing about them. He felt that he was laying in a veritable puddle of sticky, cooling fluids, probably a disgusting mixture of transfluid and his own energon. Some of it was drying on his still-hot plating too, creating a messy, obscene and unpleasant layer that he wanted to get rid of. 

Time seemed to crawl sluggishly as he lay there, bleeding out his energon, weakening by the breem in the unforgiving, uncaring darkness alone, unable to find a respite or go back to blessedly offline. At first he tried to call someone when he found his broken, staticky voice, whimpering for help, for some mech to do something, to just be there, but only the silence answered. He sobbed without tears, the cleanser long run dry from his optics. The pain ebbed and rose in waves together with his nausea and the urge to purge, but his tanks were empty and he only heaved dryly a few times.

He was alone with the pain. Optronix tried brokenly to think of happier thoughts, of his siblings or his friends but the aching of his frame always pulled him back into the stark reality. Has Megatron just left him here to bleed out and deactivate alone in the darkness? Was he so unimportant, so hated and despised that no mech cared to stop his bleeding or patch him up, not to mention to bring a cube of energon? He was ready to welcome any fate by this time, just to end this misery. 

He didn’t know how long it was before he heard a door opening and a mech’s stepping inside the room. It was a big mech by the reverberations and Optronix sobbed brokenly anew, dreading Megatron again. Light flooded the room and Optronix’s straining optics were blinded by the sudden change. He heard a muffled oath and the steps became faster before they came to a stop beside the berth. He couldn’t help the trembling starting up. Who was it?

“Stay with me youngling, I’ll fix you now.” – the voice was that of a stranger, just as the visage that his blearily blinking optics started to see in time, but he didn’t sound bad. – “I didn’t know it was this bad.”

A small sting on his neck cables and blessedly, his body just fell off his sensor-net. Optronix breathed a small vent of relief at being suddenly pain-free. He still felt his spark throbbing in discomfort, but that was nothing compared to the rest of it. No bond though, or he was completely in the dark about what a bond should feel like. 

“Are you online, Optronix?” – the mech was a medic probably and he was mopping up the mess of energon and fluids that he was laying in. – “Stay with me, you are going to be fixed now.”

“Y-yes…” – he croaked rather than spoke and even to himself it was hard to understand. Still it surprised him that he was able to do this much.

The medic glanced at his faceplates before going back to whatever he was doing. – “Here, drink this. It’ll soothe your voice a bit.” – he held a small cube to his lipplates and Optronix gulped its contents down with some effort.

Whatever it was, he was glad for it. The smooth fluid had a sweet taste and it did wonders for his intake and voice. He wished there was something like this to soothe his processor and spark too. The medic continued to do things that Optronix didn’t really want to know about. The lack of pain and the night spent mostly online in agony made him drowsy and soon he fell into an uneasy and shallow recharge. He felt hungry with all the energon he lost and the overload – at least he supposed that that dark, disgusting explosion-like feeling was an overload, one where he was taken for a ride without his volition. But in time even the hunger seemed unimportant. 

When he came online the next time, Optronix felt much better – the pain was mostly gone or muted down to dull aches, his empty tank filling up from a drip connected to a main line in his torso. He felt terribly weak though and still unable to move much. Certainly not strong enough to leave the berth. It was dark again, but his whispered order brought the lights on. Lifting his helm slightly he looked over to his frame, to be sure it was still there. He saw no sign of damage, so the medic did fix him up, but both the berth and his plating had plenty of flaking, dry fluids on them. 

He wanted to get rid of it. Optronix knew that he might never feel clean again after this. He wanted to go to the wash-racks that he saw opening from the berthroom and scrub his plating raw to get rid of the fluids. But he couldn’t move and he was alone again. His internal chrono said that it was the middle of the night cycle, so he must have recharged almost a whole orn. His self-healing still demanded that he rest more though, and Optronix acquiesced to it. 

His next few orns passed much the same way, with Hook, the medic coming every morning to check him and bring energon. After the first time, the medic was all professional, never conversing with Optronix, only about his condition as he healed physically. Mentally, he thought that he never would and his spark was throbbing and flaring sometimes, like it protested against the bond that was imposed on it. By this time he knew that this dull ache in his spark was supposed to be the bond, or the beginning of one.

After he told about it to Hook, one time he felt drowsy after drinking the energon and surprisingly fell into a deep, blessedly dreamless recharge straight away. When he came online again, the throb in his spark lessened, the barely-there bond felt a bit stronger and he had a few silvery scratches on his chest-plates. It happened twice more before he realized what it had to be.

It must have been Megatron and Optronix trembled just from that thought itself. But the warlord didn’t touch his valve on these occasions, only his spark; he learned that the new bond always needed to be reinforced by frequent merges before it settled and became a permanent connection. He was thankful that it happened while he was sedated – awake Optronix was sure that he wouldn’t be able to force himself to touch Megatron again. 

But no matter how the bond strengthened, it still felt like a dead end. Megatron kept his end closed off all the time and Optronix didn’t have the mental strength either to re-establish the connection, no matter how many times he tried. His situation was even worse than he’d thought it would be. He couldn’t even feel his supposed bondmate, much less talk with him through the bond, like he heard that normal mates could.

 

The time came when he could stand up and move under his own power – and Hook didn’t come any more in the mornings to check on him. Optronix could drag himself on shaking legs into the wash-rack finally and filling the sunken pool, he immersed himself into the warm solvent with an almost happy sigh, the first for a long while. He let it soak through the layers of dried fluids before scrubbing it off himself, resting for a breem every now and then in the job, as he was still weak and trembling from exhaustion. But he didn’t stop until he felt his plating clean again, after joors of determined, angry and still sobbing work.

He just had enough strength to clean the berth before dropping in exhaustion onto it and went straight into recharge. His last thought was to desperately hope that Megatron wouldn’t come. Tired as he was he had recharged enough in the last few orns, so his offline time was disrupted many times by memory fluxes. But there was no other mech around here to curl to, to feel the calming effect of their nearness, to feel safe. Optronix was young enough to still wish that someone was there, like his siblings whom he could always go when frightened by recharge fluxes.

No such luck here. He onlined alone in the morning, no mech and no sound whatsoever in the suite of rooms he was given. He felt strong enough to discover the chambers, which to his dismay didn’t take long. There was an anteroom that he remembered opening onto the corridor outside – but the door was locked securely, so he couldn’t leave. It had a table with cubes of energon on it, some storage space and a couple of cleaning droids. It opened into a living room with recliners and sofas around a small table, decorated with pictures on the walls and crystal statues on pedestals. 

The berthroom, he already knew, just like the wash-racks opening from it. On the other side, there was a smaller room of indefinite function, but with the only window looking to the outside. Optronix was eager to discover what it showed but after a few kliks he had been sorely disappointed; he could only see a stark wall of the palace’s outer curtain, part of a bastion and some roofs underneath. Only a bit of a sky could be seen in the upper corner and the window was barred with strong bars.

Like a prison, his processor whispered uncomfortably, and unfortunately nothing that he saw or experienced so far has refuted that assessment. The door that led to the corridor was locked, the single window barred and he saw no mech else so far but Megatron and Hook. His comm was still set to the Iaconian standard and he didn’t even know how to reset it. Megatron handled him like a worthless drone, not even deeming him worthy for answers or conversation and their supposed bond was totally locked down.

There was absolutely nothing he could do here, Optronix realized after only half an orn. No entertainment system, no newscasts, no datapads or games… the rooms were empty of anything but the furniture. The paintings on the wall and the bland view from the single window occupied his attention for a few joors only, before they got boring. No company either, he realized after a few days. No mechs came in, only the servants while he was in recharge, leaving his daily energon in the anteroom’s table.

He tried to listen for voices in the window but only the wind raved around the structures, whizzing and whining like it was sympathetic to his mood. Only rarely did the wind die down a bit and sometimes he heard faint, disjointed notes of music fly past his window. Never so coherent that he could identify it, but lacking any other pastime, he sometimes tried to imagine who’d listen to it, what it was or why it was done. He envied those mechs too for having the means and the mood for music. 

He was bored out of his processor in a single orn – and Optronix knew that he would probably have to face vorns in the same way. Not even escape would free him, as Megatron would only have to open up the bond and he’d catch Optronix in no time. Provided he could get out of this place. At first it looked impossible, but he knew that if he had to spend vorns with nothing to do, in time he’d find a way to escape. Since that seemed the only thing to do here, Optronix decided to plan an approach to it. 

It gave him something to do for maybe a few groons, no more. Whoever designed his rooms made a through work and thought all possibilities. Besides Optronix realized that the story datapads that he remembered might have described several ways of escaping from a prison, but they were invariably either impossible or inapplicable in his situation.


	4. Spark

**additional warning** : mpreg, miscarriage

 

Optronix onlined from recharge but didn't move, aside from powering up his optics. His gaze roamed uninterested circles on the ceiling, recognizing each tiny dent, scratch and mar on the smooth, silver-white metal. None of them changed from the previous orn. Or the one before. The thousand ones before. He idly thought of giving the small imperfections names, he was so familiar with them. Never even a cyberfly moved on that surface, but it was the most often seen sight that he knew.

Two vorns, his processor informed him of the date, exactly two vorns have gone since that pain-filled cycle, his first in this prison. Not even the thought of Megatron possibly coming to… well, definitely not to celebrate, but to take him again, could awaken the slightest interest in him. Even the fear was just a tiny, little emotion curling in his processor, battling with his apathy while numbly reminding him to the pain.

Pain, that by now he was almost used to. Pain that he was regularly put through by his… he paused, a small sob still escaping his vocalizer, by his supposedly bonded mate. It could still hurt, probably the only thing that could. A bond was supposed to be a beautiful connection, a common fate, a feeling of being joined between mates. Optronix knew by this time that he was probably overly romantic about a bond being good, happy union, but then he saw so many such before…

Pain gripped his spark, sadness and loneliness surrounding it, choking it, swallowing it. He sobbed again, tears leaking from his optics, long past caring about showing weakness – no mech ever came to his prison, only Megatron sometimes and Hook if he was too damaged. There were sometimes silent, empty groons before he saw a movement, heard a mech in the tomb-like quiet of his rooms. And then he wished that it didn't come, because Megatron inevitably meant pain and agony.

Optronix lay on the berth, not even bothering to move. The energon cubes that were probably waiting for him in the anteroom didn't interest him. He did nothing these joors, sometimes hasn't moved for orns. There was simply nothing to do here and consequently no need to drink energon when he didn't use it for anything. He even turned off the notifications on his HUD for low fuel as useless. Recharge was enough this way, even as something nudged him to drink some more energon – but the bland taste of the unrefined mid-grade that went stale on his table wasn't alluring in the least.

At the beginning, he tried. Sang whatever songs he could remember, until his own voice echoing in the empty space became too much to bear and sobs swallowed his voice. Recited poems and tales that he learned as youngling until the repetitions emptied them of meaning and mood. Stood for joors in front of the paintings and statues contemplating the artist's intentions and style, crafting similar pieces of art with his imagination. But how long such pitiful things can keep boredom and apathy at bay?

For a time he used to sit by the single window, thinking of Kaon that he barely know something about, the palace he hardly saw of - and ways to escape from it. The window was such an obvious place to start. It was energized since his first attempt and he couldn't sit by it now without risking a painful jolt as warning and a debilitating one if he insisted. And the view wasn't worth it really.

He wasn't even punished for the attempted escape, Megatron, when he came just took him like he always did. He was never intentionally damaging him, just uncaring and rough – and much bigger of course. Optronix was never since the first time as damaged as then, but the interfacing that the warlord forced on him from time to time still necessitated Hook patching him up the orn after.

It didn't matter really. Nothing did. The pain was almost welcome after the bleak aloneness that was his only company. It made him feel something again. Optronix hasn't tried to remember to his previous life, his siblings, teachers, going outside, playing, studying, hoping for a future… for a long time. It just hurt too much to remember how much he'd lost and how little he had to look forward to. It was better burying those memories completely.

Two vorns only and he felt barely more than a sparkless drone. Two vorns alone and he was broken, defeated, empty. His gaze roamed the ceiling again. Nothing changed there. Nothing changed underneath it. There was no reason to move, to think, to feel. None. If he stayed in the berth forever, it wouldn't make the slightest difference. Megatron would just find a way to make him fed, cleaned, and he would use him like before.

His valve and his spark was the only thing the warlord needed from him. Use him until he was sparked and then take away the sparkling as soon as it was possible, to save it from being tainted by its carrier's weakness and fear. He was told this in a cold tone brooking no arguments. He got no chance to prove himself, no opportunity to answer to Megatron, to convince him of his worth. The warlord judged him already and found him lacking. He was so worthless in his optics that he deserved nothing.

Optronix felt his heavy steps making the floor tremble. Unmoving, uncaring, but his senses sharpened in the stillness of the chambers. Megatron's huge frame was passing the first doorway, then the second one and stopping just inside the berthroom. From the corner of his optics Optronix saw his bulk in the doorway, but if he waited for the smaller mech to react, he was wrong. Two vorns, his traitorous meta whispered again. How many more to come?

"You stopped refueling again." – the rough voice didn't make an attempt to sound caring. It sounded frustrated and angry with his possession not taking care of himself.

Optronix didn't answer, didn't even move a digit to show that he heard the admonishment.

"Look at me!" – Megatron was frustrated and angrier by the klik. He didn't want a senseless drone for bondmate. He didn't want him at all, his Sire's support wasn't needed any more, but he still had to put up with this… this worthless little Iaconian in his berth. He jerked on a limp servo but the attached frame just slid closer to him on the berth big enough for both of them, and it still didn't react. He wasn't offline or in recharge, because the optics still shone with their dulled, but still exotic blue shine. They never looked at him directly for a long time.

Suddenly angry, he pulled him off the berth by the arm in his servo and with the same momentum threw him across the room. He didn't even make a sound as he crashed into the wall face first, like a doll with its strings cut and slid down on it to lay in a heap. Megatron suddenly felt a strong twinge through the still closed bond. At the same time a horrible shriek left Optronix's vocalizer, echoing in the chamber and he curled onto his front with every sign of tearing agony in his lines.

What was going on? He couldn't have been injured so much from a simple impact… could he? Megatron commed to Hook to get his aft there straight away and tried to lift the curled-up frame. Optronix continued to shriek in an unholy voice and curled up, trying to push him away and at the same time protect his spark-chamber. That should have been his first clue. The second was the arriving medic who scanned the screaming Optronix and sedated him immediately, not asking his permission to do so.

"My Lord…" – Hook was uncharacteristically somber. – "I must ask if this… violence was intentional or not."

"What the Pit you mean medic?" - Megatron growled angrily, but for once Hook didn't back down.

"I believed that you were trying to spark your mate, My Lord."

"What is it has to do with… of course I was. I need an heir! What are you insinuating?"

"Optronix is with spark." – Hook bowed his helm sadly – "But not for long I'm afraid."

"WHAT?!"

"He is not fighting to keep it… the trauma from the crash started the newspark to detach and start its way down to the protoform. But the protoform is nowhere near ready for it, probably just a few orns since its assembly started. Its only chance would be for Optronix to call it back with his own spark, but he isn't doing it."

"Why? And why don't you awaken him and tell him to do it?" – Megatron was nearly taking his rage out on the mechs at hand, but he knew that he shouldn't. Not at the moment. – "I order you to wake him up and save my heir from termination!"

Hook just looked at him incredulously, apparently torn between giving him a piece of his processor and just throw his servos up in the air. There were things that obeyed a ruler's orders and there were things that definitely didn't. Hook patched up Optronix enough times to know perfectly well that the young mech lost every ounce of will to live long ago. There was no way he'd want to do anything to save the already sputtering, weakening sparklet. Even if he could, which he wasn't sure.

Optronix was a young mech and likely not even aware of the fact that he was with spark. Even less possible was that he'd know what to do in this specific case. But his self-preservation won and Hook shrugged, injecting Optronix with the stimulant to wake up. For the newspark it probably didn't matter already. Megatron grasped a slim shoulder and turned the slowly awakening mech towards him. He was already screaming and Hook winced. This was what he wanted to spare him – the agony of the sparkling breaking free of his spark.

"Save my heir, hear me?!" – Megatron shook him forcefully, probably further traumatizing the already weakening Optronix. The process put a strain on his spark too, not only affected the sparklet. He didn't answer to Megatron, didn't even appear to hear him. The only conscious movement was to draw his servos over his spark, feeling the pain there – but the rest of his frame was limp, unresisting.

Hook passed the scanner over his chest-plates but couldn't find the signs of the newspark. Lowering it he just caught the flickering signal in the gestation chamber before it guttered out. A keening howl followed it from the young mech and a pained growl from Megatron who also felt it even through the closed bond. Hook didn't want to say it aloud, but he had to.

"It is gone, My Lord."

Megatron threw down Optronix's half-offline frame and started to pace in the chamber. He looked mightily angry, furious even, but he was sane enough to know that it was not his mate's fault. He looked uncharacteristically hesitant and indecisive, almost guilty. Hook lifted the limp frame back to the berth and scanned him for damage. There was a deep indent on the chest-plates and looking at the wall Hook saw the cause of it too – a fixture on the wall that he was thrown into.

"I caused the newspark to detach and terminate, didn't I?" – Megatron's voice was still angry but tinged with a barely hid sadness.

"I… I'm afraid it is the case, My Lord." – Hook didn't look at him, he busied himself with fixing the slight injuries on Optronix's frame. He sedated the young mech again, now that it didn't matter any more.

"I didn't know that he was with spark." – he murmured it more to himself than to the medic; not as an explanation, just to state the fact itself.

"Probably Optronix didn't know about it either, My Lord. It was less than a groon old, the protoform barely started to be assembled." – Hook choose not to mention that even without the newspark in the picture, it was totally unbecoming for a mech of Megatron's size to brutalize his poor, much smaller mate. Optronix hasn't made a rebellious move since his escape attempt was thwarted and Hook saw that he'd tried to comply Megatron in anything even at the cost of his own pain – only the warlord didn't seem to notice it. Or care.

"It is still my fault." – he looked lost in his thoughts of which Hook didn't really want to know about – "I'll have to make up to him when he awakens."

Megatron noticed his medic's incredulous glance at him.

"What is it?"

"Uhh… My Lord… I'm not sure… I mean surely you saw the state Optronix is in lately?"

"Listless, unresponsive, like he let himself go? Yes." – he scowled, apparently ascribing the symptoms to the smaller mech's weakness and disdaining him for it. – "Why?"

"It would take, ummm, quite a lot to 'make up' to him." – Hook decided that if his Lord was this thick, then he must need some sobering up. – "I would say that it would take a lot to keep him from letting himself deactivate."

"Why?"

"Because he is a bright, young mech imprisoned and used ruthlessly as a breeder…?" – oops. Hook didn't want to be so straightforward, but it just wanted to be told. - "Because he was completely alone with no mech for company, and he had nothing to do here, to take his mind off his fate – that is, to be raped brutally and regularly?"

Hook thought that Megatron would be exploding at him for saying things so openly, but the warlord just stared at the inert frame of Optronix on the big berth. Probably for the first time, he really looked at him, considering and noticing the details. The faded colours on his once bright and shiny frame, the dull, lifeless optics, the numerous scratches on the repaired but never repainted pelvic plates and thighs. The sheer, almost sterile emptiness of the room, devoid of not only personality but any form of entertainment or pastime.

Yes, he had ordered that no mech could enter to his rooms and he cannot leave them before a sparkling has emerged. He had a reason for it; as Kaon's ruler, his mate had to prove his worth, and if not he would be challenged, probably deactivated in the ensuing duel. A warrior state cannot have a weak mate for its ruler. Only having a sparkling would give him a way out from that situation. It was for his protection, Megatron told himself. Only the explanation felt quite empty even for him now.

As Optronix has never sparked he was kept separated from his people all the time. Megatron never thought what it'd mean to the young Iaconian in orn to orn living. That, barring his visits, the young mech was completely alone, sometimes for groons, no hearing a word, not having a companion, unable to meet even with the servants to ask for things he needed, that could have made his loneliness a bit more bearable. And he wasn't exactly a companion for the young mech either.

"Can he spark again?" – the question was sudden and unexpected.

"Not easily. Not soon. Certainly not while the only thing he wants is to offline permanently." – Hook didn't mention that with the shallow, mostly one-sided merges it was a small miracle to be sparked at all. He so wasn't criticizing his Lord's interfacing style, he wanted to stay alive. Lord Megatron would have to find that out for himself.

"I intend to give him a reason to continue functioning." – Megatron looked… pensive. – "And making up for my earlier… misconceptions."

Hook looked skeptic but hid it well. – "I understand My Lord."

"You may leave, medic. You'll do regular check-ups on him from now on."

"As you command, My Lord." – Hook stood up and started to leave. Stopping at the doorway, he glanced back to the room. Megatron didn't move, didn't give any sign that he saw his leaving.

"What about the started protoform in him?" – the question reached him already on the outside and Hook had to step back to answer. – "It'll be reabsorbed naturally, My Lord. I'll check on it next orn."

"I see."

After the medic left, Megatron continued to watch the offline frame of his mate on the berth. It was big, to accommodate his own frame, but bare too, with not even a headrest or blanket in sight to make it more comfortable or just homely. There was nothing on the small table by it either, no datapad, no personal possession, nothing. Optronix didn't have anything to put there. A cube half full with old, stale energon sat at the corner of the room, on a side-table. Some of the energon was on the table and Megatron leaned over it to examine – it didn't look like just being spilled.

Turning his helm from the way it would look from the berth he saw. A picture of sorts, scratched with careful strokes into the metal and the faint lines filled with energon that thickened like some strange sort of paint. The scene was unfinished, the lines ending suddenly, but they depicted mechs at various activities. Probably his former family or friends, his processor whispered. Of whom he didn't know anything since he left Iacon, barred from even contacting them.

Continuing his prowling, Megatron stepped into the washracks. It too was painfully empty of anything personal – and as he discovered of anything useful too. The tins of wax and polish were all empty, their contents ran out long ago by the look of it. A single, threadbare wash-cloth lay on one side of the solvent-bath. So this is why his colours looked so faded, his plating so dull, he mused, crumpling the small cloth in his talons. In the middle of the riches of the palace, he lived poorer than a servant…

Megatron felt worse by the klik, the pangs of his conscience a completely new feeling for the always self-assured, proud warlord. He didn't exactly mean any of this, not really. He didn't intend to be cruel to Optronix, but by negligence, ignorance and his hatred for Ultra Magnus projected on his creation he still caused it. Let it gone for vorns, until eventually it came to head. The destruction of the newspark was, in a way just the inevitable conclusion of his ignorance and coldness.

Throwing down the old washcloth, he returned to the berthroom. Optronix was still out and he'd be for some time. Time enough to think over what he did wrong – and more importantly how he could make them right. It wasn't going to be easy, he knew. He remembered the utter terror in those blue optics the first few times he came, knowing of the pain that was to come and not able to do anything against it. He never cared to make interfacing easier for the smaller mech. Never once he lavished a tender touch on him to make him aroused, to spare him the pain of being taken dry and hard.

For the life of him, Megatron couldn't truly tell why. He was a good lover with his few partners before, even as he was aggressive and dominating as befitting his nature and station. Still, he could make his berthmates, even the smaller ones aroused and enjoying the interface, so why didn't he do it for the one supposed to be his bonded mate? True, he was murderously angry with his Sire, that manipulative glitch Ultra Magnus – but he shouldn't have projected that hate onto the young and completely innocent Optronix. Not for so long anyway.

Suddenly a scene popped up from his memory banks, of their bonding ceremony. Optronix, sitting on his left, unobtrusively glancing at him, the anxiousness in his optics slowly transforming into interest, almost lust, or as close to it as the inexperienced, untouched young mech could feel it. He should have acted on that, making the smaller mech feel on his side, welcomed despite of the circumstances. It wasn't as though he didn't like Optronix, once he could see him with a clearer processor.

Well, he botched that chance totally and then continued it in the same vein. Or worse. He probably long destroyed any interest or positive attitude from the younger mech that he could use now to set things right. But Megatron wasn't a mech to give up things. Optronix was bonded to him and that bond could not be dissolved. Nor did he want to take other mates. Therefore, if he wanted an heir, he would have to solve this mess – make up for Optronix for the maltreatment, make the mech want to live again, and finally, make him… well, to get him love Megatron was a tall order, but accepting should be enough.

He continued to watch the offline form of the mech, while started to make some comm calls. Fortunately, Kaon was in peace with her neighbors at the moment and he secured those relations with treaties that should last for vorns if needed. The ornly running of the city-state could be divided between Shockwave and Soundwave, they were pestering him enough to take some time off from managing the kingdom. It meant that he could dedicate most of his time to Optronix. High time.


	5. Change

Optronix onlined from recharge but didn't move, aside from powering up his optics. His gaze roamed its regular circles on the ceiling, recognizing each tiny dent, scratch and mar on the smooth, silver-white metal… before the usual routine was broken because of a strong, painful throb from his spark. He tried to recall what happened yesterorn to be the cause of the new pain. With a strong shudder, he remembered Megatron as the warlord yanked him by his limp servo, saying something angry and disdainful. But after that… only disjointed images of Hook, Megatron, pain and for some reason energon came up from his memory banks.

His spark twanged like it was missing something… something that should be important, but he just couldn't remember what it was. A servo rose and he hesitantly touched his chest, trying to remember something. There was pain but it was different from the usual one, caused by the hard and uncaring interfaces that Megatron forced on his frame. It centered in his spark and Optronix sobbed once, mourning something that he wasn't even aware of. For a few kliks he thought that it was the closed-off bond – but that was different too.

He turned his helm slightly to cast an uninterested look around the room and he froze suddenly as his glance fell on the doorway leading to the sitting room. He saw these rooms so many times that he could pick up every mote that changed place – and now there was a huge frame sitting in one of the armchairs, just by the door, doing nothing, not even moving. A huge, silvery frame that he came to know and fear. Megatron.

What was the warlord doing there, Optronix had no idea. He never before lingered even for kliks after he finished in the smaller mech and came down from his overload, much less stayed till the day cycle and it put a plethora of new fears into the young mech's processor, awakening him from the disinterested stupor. What new torment had he made up, what could the silver mech still rob him of? Optronix was sure that he had nothing left, neither material goods, nor any emotions or feelings beside pain and terror. Still, he learned not to expect anything in the least positive from him.

He whimpered quietly and scooted backwards, towards the wall, to try and hide – but there was no place to hide, not even the false security of a thermal blanket on the berth to cover his poor, battered frame with it. His spark throbbed again strongly, painfully, fully waking him up from the lethargy. What was going on? The shaking got stronger as Megatron didn't move, just stared at him unnervingly. The glare wasn't angry or malicious, it wasn't enraged or disdaining – it was blank almost, like the mech wasn't quite there, lost in his own thoughts.

By the time the life returned to Megatron's stare and the mech stood up to cross the threshold into the berthroom, Optonix was wracked by nervous tremors. But when the huge, silvery frame stopped by the berth, he didn't make a move to heave himself over his trembling one, like he always did, didn't come close enough even to touch him. He held out a servo and offered Optronix a cube of energon almost gently and it confused the Pit out of the smaller mech.

He stared up to him with wide optics, one servo instinctly coming up to his aching spark again, in a subconscious motion of defending it. Had he had some more space, he would have backed off even more, but the wall stopped him. But Megatron didn't come closer, didn't make any move other than holding out the cube, apparently fully prepared to keep it there before he took it. Optronix thought he knew by this time how Megatron worked but this was completely new. Almost like… like he was contrite. No, that couldn't be it, he thought. Megatron, feeling remorse? Impossible.

But when the warlord spoke it too was unexpected. He spoke so little to him, discouraging, often outright stopping him when he tried to talk with him before. Even for a mech of few words, he was silent with him and whenever Optronix tried to ask or tell something he got angry, resentful, growling about despicable, backstabbing blabbermouths. The young Iaconian was fairly sure that this attitude stemmed from his Sire's manipulations that Megatron never hid as being extremely revolting him. But this time he initiated the discourse, such as it was…

"I won't touch you until you are again comfortable with it." – Megatron stated in a voice intended to be soft, but only managing to be less grumpy than usual, especially at the second part. – "No need to be afraid of me."

Megatron still couldn't quite shed the ingrained reflex to consider showing fear a weakness and disdaining it. Once he had thought it over, he could understand Optronix showing it – he wasn't raised as Kaonites were, he wasn't trained to hide it, he was still too young and he had plenty of reasons to feel it around Megatron. Unfortunately understanding hasn't made it easier to accept it too. So far in his life there was no reason to consider that other ways of functioning could be just as valid as his own. The Kaonite way was successful, effective and good enough for him, for his people and he could conquer other city-states who were weaker.

Therefore it was quite hard for the warlord to force himself to accept that his mate should be so different, so weak and cowardly. Well, not exactly cowardly, he conceded, as Optronix was after all brave enough to accept the bonding with him and come to Kaon, to live in their way. That should count for something, he thought, and with some coaching he could be molded to a bit more… hardy. And if the youngster did that, he could in return try to be a bit warmer, more accepting towards him.

Yes, Megatron thought, that could work. He'd make an effort to conform a bit to the Iaconian's expectations and later he'd see what he could do to make a warrior out of him. But even decided as he was, he couldn't quite keep the contempt out of his voice and expression, much as he tried to. He wasn't used to modulate his vice to be calming or friendly, because there was never a need to do so and it showed. He could do nothing about looking like a warrior, bigger, stronger and… well, intimidating either.

The slight wince from Optronix showed that he understood the tone of voice perfectly – the younger mech became quite adept at reading his moods that admittedly ranged only from bad to worse as far as he knew. But his trembling lessened by a minuscule amount and he moved cautiously forward to pick the proffered cube hesitantly from his servos. Timidly glancing up to him, Optronix nodded slightly to show his thanks – not yet trusting his voice to be steady enough.

He sipped from the cube and his optics widened – it was neither the ornly mid-grade, the kind he was invariably given so far, nor one of the more powerful high-grades, but a sweetened variety of energon, usually given to sparklings and younglings. It was purported to have calming properties, besides signifying affection and Optronix hadn't even seen such a cube for vorns, much less tasted one. Even his Sire frowned upon such an indulgence from his almost-adult creations and he never expected Megatron to know of it, much less to give him one. If it wasn't symbolic, then he totally misjudged the situation.

Megatron withdrew once the cube was picked up hesitantly from his servo, not wanting to crowd the visibly frightened smaller mech needlessly. The peace-offering was accepted and he took that as a good sign to begin with. He was glad that Optronix was more responsive than lately, and he guessed the sparkling was the main reason for it. He sat into an armchair that he placed just by the door, far enough so his mate wouldn't feel threatened but close enough so they could talk. During the time Optronix was offline, he had time to think, to decide how he was going to do it. Slowly and step by step, because if he botched it he'd get no other chance.

"Optronix…" – he paused, still not sure of how to express it, despite of the preparation, but plunging on anyway – "I wronged you by behaving like I did. I… I am sorry." – it felt unnatural to apologise and he almost fouled it up with a scowl, but stopped the grimace before it could show. The apology was, as he felt instinctly, the right thing to do, something he must say aloud, no matter how it galled him. – "I wish to make up for it to you, set things right, and maybe in time have a… a normal relationship. If we still can."

He stopped, only then daring to look at Optronix, who froze at the first sound of his statement. The smaller mech stared at him with a frozen, incredulous disbelief, like he wasn't sure if his audials or processors were working perfectly and he was truly hearing what he thought to hear. Megatron supposed that it must have been a tremendous shock to see him change completely and suddenly and he didn't blame Optronix not to believe it at once. But at least it made him listen and not withdraw into himself.

"Wha… why now?" – he asked in a suspicious and still very much afraid, small voice. – "Y-you never cared before…"

"It was wrong." – Soundwave advised him not to mention the terminated sparkling so soon, so he tried to avoid the issue. – "I suppose I didn't care because of your Sire. I'm sure you gathered this much."

"Yes… yes, I know that you hated my Sire." – Optronix was a bit less afraid by now, like he wanted desperately to hope that his change was truly a deep one and lasting. He was still so painfully young and craving so much for any kind of a positive attitude, an approval, a word of goodwill or friendliness, eager to grasp at the perceived opportunity… - "But I never knew why you hated me…" – he finished the sentence quietly, pain spearing his spark by the look of it. - "Have I done something against you…?"

"No! Well, not anything in particular. But I never hated you, Optronix…" – it was almost painful to see how he flinched at the use of his designation but Megatron plunged on, trying to choose his words with care, softening the expressions as he spoke. It was harder work than an energon-stained battle and far more uncomfortable. – "… I just… I guess I expected you to be more like… like we are. The Iacon way is quite… foreign to us. If you learn more about it, you'll see."

Optronix nodded quietly, as he indeed knew this and suspected as much. But the sudden change made him cautious and suspicious still. They both know all of this before even the bonding, so it should have been no surprise to Megatron either. He still felt almost like being dead inside, but the unexpected behaviour of Megatron still tickled his meta, made him interested about its reason. He was still careful though, not quite trusting in the warlord.

"B-but what changed it now? I mean, I don't want to question you of course…"

Megatron flinched at the hurriedly added sentence, clearly meant to placate his anger, should he choose to take umbrage at the question. It was almost painful to see him try to understand the situation but at the same time fearing that a wrong question or just a word could throw Megatron back to his angry mood, which was basically the only one he knew. The young mech wasn't stupid, far from it, and he learned through hard lessons that the warlord's anger was painful and long.

"Something happened that made me realize how unfair I was towards you, Optronix. We will talk of it later when you trust me more, if that's all right…?" – the terminated sparkling was a taboo subject so far if he didn't want to forever alienate the younger mech. His brother was quite adamant on this and he had more experiences with such matters.

"Yes… okay, I guess." – Optronix glanced downwards submissively, drawing a bit more back and into himself - he didn't want to stretch the warlord's patience that so far seemed to hold. He'd take the not-angry Megatron any orn, and if he wasn't going to tell him what made him change, then he wouldn't ask. Not yet. Not while he himself felt this cold emptiness inside, that he had no explanation for.

"I realized that by separating you from my people, you suffered hardship here. I had a reason for it, but it was still not my intention, only I ignored the signs."

"What reason?" – maybe he could ask this much.

"As my… bondmate you could be challenged to a fight, a duel. Some of my more ambitious nobles would be eager to see you deactivated and through it me brought down." – Megatron was eager to explain at least this part, as it was true and not precisely something he could be blamed for. – "Obviously, you wouldn't be able to fight successfully with anyone from Kaon and I couldn't risk it. Isolating you from my mechs seemed to be the solution at the time."

"Ahh… I see." – Optronix was on one servo glad that his isolation actually had a logical reason for it; but on the other servo dismayed by the revelation as it would mean that he could never leave these rooms, no matter Megatron's mood and attitude-change towards him.

"Does it mean that I'm forever… locked up here… alone?" – he asked with a suddenly dry intake and fighting off unwanted, shameful tears that always seemed to irk the warlord, slim shoulder slumping dejectedly. Megatron had a sudden urge to hug those sad shoulders to make him happier, to dispel the hopeless sadness – but he knew that at the moment he'd just worsen the situation if he made any such advance.

"No. I can make some arrangements. I have already made some. You will have a servant from Kalis here and in time, with some secrecy and guards you can visit the city as well. Also, once you are sparked, it means that you won't, can't be challenged." – not much he could offer him right now, but a start anyway.

Optronix visibly perked up at the first part of Megatron's speech, but if the warlord thought that he'd be glad for the last part, he was mistaken. Of course he was glad to hear that his prison would be a bit lighter and he'd have a company in it soon. But being sparked meant interface and merging, the things that he came to associate with terror and pain. Besides it didn't happen in two vorns and Primus knew he did everything for it to succeed, despite of the pain it meant to him… Still, he repressed the nervous shuddering of his insides and answered with forced thankfulness and a show of happiness, lest Megatron would again get angry…

"I understand My Lord… thank you for the… company. I've always wanted a sparkling too, to fulfill the contract and… if it meant my freedom then I'd want it even more… despite everything…"

"Optronix… it is… I mean…" – Megatron fumbled with the words, now even more uncomfortable with what he had to say. – "I caused you pain… that way. I meant when I said that I won't touch you again, until you can… trust me. Interface shouldn't hurt… so far I was careless and injured you. I don't want to do that ever again."

Optronix couldn't dare to believe what he heard. No, he must be still recharging and dreaming of Megatron changing from an utterly sparkless monster into a caring bondmate from one cycle to the next. Such things only happened in sappy romance stories that he loved to read while he was younger. He stared at dream-Megatron, waiting for the pleasant fantasy to end now that he discovered that it was only a dream.

"Optronix? What is the problem?" – Megatron grew worried as his mate totally zoned out and stared at him unblinkingly, without a word.

"'m I dreaming, right?" – Optronix mumbled, mostly to himself. It was a persistent dream. A good one, but then it must end now that he realized its nature.

Megatron felt like a monster for that small utterance. That Optronix would think that it was all just a dream, that he couldn't even imagine him to be kinder, caring for real… he didn't believe him still. Of course… why would he? He gave the younger mech no proof yet, only words. He stood suddenly, his mouthplates tightened at the small flinch that Optronix made at his movement, but he couldn't sit any longer. Megatron was a mech of action not words.

"No, Optronix, it is not a dream. I mean every word that I said and you'll see proof of it soon enough." – he made no move to close the distance to the smaller mech, still curled up in a ball, almost lost on the too big berth. It would have been too early to try and initiate any contact, be it gentle or otherwise. He'd let Optonix see the changes first, gain some measure of trust and then try to reacquaint to him.

After he left, Optronix debated for a few kliks between wanting to believe him and afraid to do so – but at the end his tiredness won and without a decision, he fell back into the half-recharge that – unknown to him – was his self-repair nanites doing their work on the barely formed protoform, reabsorbing its parts into his frame. He was puzzled by the sudden tiredness and the unusual aches that went with it, but he had no way of knowing its reason. That he was so used to pains and aches at his age so they didn't cause any particular alarm to him was the testament to Megatron's careless roughness so far.

The warlord seemed… almost believable in what he said and serious without being angry. Optonix hoped that it wasn't just wishful thinking, just his yearning to have his fate get better. But did he dare to hope at this time? Did he dare to believe, to trust, just to have his hopes crushed again? He didn't know. He wanted to trust Megatron, because he had no other hope. As he emptied the cube of the sweet energon, just before falling into recharge, he decided to do so. His fate can't be worse than it was now anyway. It could only improve… and any improvement would be worth making an effort. He could make an effort if Megatron gave him a chance, that much he was sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I haven't mentioned the question of the bond intentionally. Simply, neither of them dares to open it up just yet.


	6. Too easy

Megatron left to the anteroom and admitted the mech from Kalis, who was going to be Optronix’s personal servant and companion. Avara was a foreign sparked bond-servant, meaning that he had to serve the ruling House until his upgrade price was met by his service, but a free mech afterwards. He was promised instant freedom as soon as Megatron judged that Optronix was ready to spark again and the mech knew that it was a rare opportunity to him; instead of hundreds of vorns in servitude, he could be free as soon as Optronix sparked.

With a few parting orders, Megatron left the chambers to let his mate become familiar with his servant and the other, more material changes he ordered to be made. Avara started to cart the supplies left in the anteroom into the berthroom, and stopped when the blue-red mech in there, Optronix stared at him like he saw a ghost – and when he saw it, he turned away shyly, curling in on himself on the berth. He was half in recharge, only woken up a bit by the servant’s entrance.

“My Lord? I’m Avara, your servant from now on. I’ll be happy to help you in anything, be it a request, service or company, whenever you wish it.”

“Avara?” – Optronix looked up at him with something almost like interest, but he was still visibly timid and hasn’t moved from the berth yet. The servant was even smaller than him, with the usual, exotic silver optics of the Kalisians, set into a deep green of his frame. – “Interesting designation.” – he mumbled, quietly, like to himself.

“Ohh, I know. My carrier was totally into romantic datapads and gave me a designation out of one such story.” – the green mech bowed at his new master and motioned respectfully. – “Do you wish to check what I brought? I understand that my lord was somewhat lacking things and bored.”

The servant mech was of course enlightened as to exactly how much dejected Optronix was and continued to cheerfully chat inconsequentials, while he sorted the objects and stored them into places around. Optronix was sitting almost unmoving on the berth, looking like still half-recharging, half interested; listening but never answering to him. He tried to make him at ease until the mech actually took interest in the things that he handled and left the berth to have a look at them. So far he only followed his movement from there, but Avara could tell that he was close to moving out of the dejected shell he’d withdrawn into. 

When he placed a platter with various energon treats onto the table, Optronix couldn’t hold himself back any more. He hasn’t seen or ate a treat or candy since the bonding ceremony and he loved them before, like all younglings. The temptation was too great to pass it up and even the uncharacteristic tiredness couldn’t stop him. He softly slipped off the berth and sneaking quietly and carefully around the servant, targeted the table with the platter on it, picking one from it as soon as he was close enough. 

Avara didn’t disturb him and kept his distance, but a quick glance shocked him more than the whole orn’s lecture from Lord Megatron and his vizier, Lord Soundwave. Optronix held the gelled candy in his servo like one would a rare treasure and Avara saw even a tear or two glistening in the corner of his optics. He looked far too young and innocent to be here and had endured what he was told about in vague terms. As he moved, the younger mech startled and snatching a few treats, he retreated to the berth hurriedly.

Avara did move the platter to the berthside table but he said nothing, thoroughly shocked by the Iaconian mech’s apparent fear. It was even worse than he thought. As a small, clearly nonmilitary mech and a foreign-sparked servant, Avara never before met with any mechs in Kaon who were afraid of him. It was a completely new feeling and he wasn’t sure how to act in such a situation. He’d thought that Optronix would be afraid of the warlord Megatron and he was prepared to help him with that – but it seemed that first he himself would have to gain the young mech’s trust. 

Optronix glanced at the servant timidly when he came closer, but the treat interested him far more. He bit into it and was promptly lost in the sensation. It was even better than he remembered it… someone – Megatron? Must have been… – went into great lengths to present a wide variety of goodies, probably so he could find his favourites among them. The sweetish, tangy taste brought back all sorts of memories that he ruthlessly kept repressed so far, and he blinked back a tear too. Enjoyment and painful memories vied in his meta for breems before the energon treat won and Optonix willfully immersed himself in the so-long missed pleasant sensation of the taste.

He glanced after the retreating servant, Avara and when he disappeared, Optronix looked around at what he brought. If it was the first sign of Megatron’s changing his attitude, he wasn’t objecting to it. Even if they were just material goods, they proved a little bit of his sincerity. The back wall was now covered with a huge stand, its shelves covered with datapads that he was itching to read. Beside it, a half-opened crate held art supplies and games. Even from the berth, he could see a corner of a new screen in the living room, presumably for watching entertainment or hopefully accessing the cybernet. He might even be able to contact to his siblings…?

He still felt tired though, and picked a datapad randomly to have something while nibbling on the treats. It was, by accident about Kaon itself, the city state and its society mainly – something that actually interested Optronix, even after all this time. He settled at the corner of the berth, his usual spot that now became just a bit more comfortable with the pillows that he used to make a sort of a nest for himself. It gave a sense of security to be shielded from the rest of the room, even as he knew that Avara wasn’t a danger – but he had gotten used to being alone and perceiving another mech nearby he associated with unpleasant things. 

Tired, sated for the first time in vorns, even if it was just from some comfort food, Optronix fell back into the half-recharge, dropping the datapad after the first few chapters. He’d want to read it, because the topic was interesting, not to mention useful, but this strange tiredness still plagued him. One servo rose to his chest and scratched lightly his chest-plates over the spark-chamber. Had he been more awake, Optronix would have tried to think about it, as the aching void was seriously worrying but recharge claimed him soon now that he had enough fuel in him. 

When he onlined it was for some kliks only that he thought all that happened as a hopeful dream – but then he felt the edge of the datapad against his servo, the pillows around and the smell of the energon treats and knew it to be real. Feeling stronger and eager than he did for a vorn Optronix stood and left the berth to see what he had now. Being an active, still very young mech, any kind of activity appealed him more than the apathetic lying on the berth that was only a last resort, not his choice. Given the opportunities now, he gladly left it behind.

Every room he had was restocked with things he missed so far, some he didn’t even know to be missing. At least boredom wasn’t going to be a danger now. While he gleefully indulged in the amenities that the wash racks now provided, Avara came in to offer his help in washing and polishing too. The small, green mech was so careful not to remind him of anything threatening that after a few, tense breems, he tentatively nodded to him – and he didn’t regret it, as he enjoyed getting the first massage in vorns after a thorough wash and polishing.

Tension simply melted out of his frame along with aches that he was so used to that only their absence was noticeable. Avara was truly a professional, knowing well when he had to stay quiet and turn on a soft, relaxing music to spell the quiet from the rooms. He also knew when to leave Optronix again, as the massage and polishing was completed and again he started to glace at him nervously. He brought some energon into the living room, arranging the smaller cubes on the table, in a semi-formal setting to choose from.

“I’ll be nearby, My Lord…” – he told only, discreetly withdrawing before he knew Lord Megatron was to come again – “If you have need of me, just signal me from the console and I’ll be straight here.”

Optronix nodded demurely, watching him to retreat quietly. He still wasn’t used to having a servant again who did things around him and helped to wash or polish his armour. Sure, they had many in Iacon, but Optronix was never allowing himself to depend on servants much. Some, who were in his age were more like his friends than servants and he played and trained a lot with them, but mainly met with their services only during formal dinners and occasions. Avara reminded him of a mech he liked way back in Iacon, Greenfield who taught him protocol and etiquette in a way that made the strict and dry subject appealing even to the younglings. He was perceptive in a same way, deducing his mood correctly and conforming to it whenever he could. But this time, he felt the servant’s departure wasn’t about himself, rather than a visitor he was sure to come soon.

He had a feeling that he’d see Megatron a lot more than before and if he was to be believed in a different way too. He wasn’t sure how to take that, how to react to the warlord if he came again. Sure, he decided to make an effort to believe his change, but the mech still caused a strut-deep dread to awaken in him that was hard to hide. And any sign of fear or perceived weakness on Optronix’s part still annoyed the warlord, no matter how he tried to hide that reaction the orn before. It was a seemingly unsolvable circle of reactions between them. 

Optronix picked up the datapad he’d started before – it was useful as it described Kaon in detail, far more so than he could ever learn in Iacon. The warrior way… it was in fact highly ironic, he mused in himself, as back in the Iacon court he was considered something of an oddity, because he’d always insisted in attending the warrior training, something that most nobles, courtiers and even his Sire disdained as fitting only for the lower caste, the military bots. True, he didn’t want to become a warrior, he enjoyed learning diplomacy and the details of running a kingdom too, but servo to servo fighting had a strange appeal to him that he never even tried to repress. 

He hoped that Megatron’s change in attitude could give him the opportunity to practice again somehow; even with all the new entertainment opportunities, the sedate life in his chambers would be boring in time. After all, he was a Kaonite, he should appreciate Optronix wanting to learn their way, right? He’d just have to be careful in how to tell it to him. This protection from challenges thing complicated matters tremendously and if the datapad was to be believed, it was more widespread and popular than he’d’ve thought.

His thoughts were shattered by the familiar silver frame entering the living room and after observing him for a few kliks, awkwardly trying to find a place close enough to talk but far enough to avoid intimidating. Optronix decided to go to meet halfway for his efforts and silently he pointed out the arrangement for dinner at the table that Avara left them. It was a good placement with the whole table separating them and the small cubes gave them plenty of excuses to fidgeting servos and nervous processors. Megatron nodded and they took their places silently. Awkward and nervous as the whole thing was it was still a step forward and they both felt it so.

“Optronix. I’m… glad to see you up and…” – Megatron waved around, not quite knowing what he wanted to express exactly that would be polite enough. – “…around.”

He recognized the datapad in Optronix’s servo and took it as a good omen that he’d pick that one – it meant he was at least open to learn about their way of life. The timid nod was about as much of an answer as he expected, the young mech tensing up at his entrance. Not only he didn’t flee back to the berth but actually came out of the berthroom on his own. He looked much better than the orn before, and even though that was just an appearance, he put it down too as a good sign.

“Is there anything else that you would like to have?”

“N-no… thank you.” – Optronix hasn’t even checked out everything that was brought in the previous orn. He picked up a small, green cube and sipped from it, to give him a bit of a courage. It did have a smell of a lighter kind of high-grade to it and the taste was agreeable too. Megatron lifted a similar cube towards him in a silent salute and Optronix suddenly realized that the warlord was at least as nervous as himself and similarly having trouble to speak up too. Their situation was strange and new to the both of them. Interestingly, the realisation calmed Optronix quite a bit, which, added to the courage from the high—grade made him speak up.

“I’m grateful for the amenities that you’ve provided.” – it never hurt to be polite Optronix learned a long time ago, even if it was a tiny bit false – “I know that I’m not what you’d expected as a life-mate, but I can try to change, to be more like… what you need.” – there, and if it came out a bit lame, he didn’t mind it. It was what he tried to express from the very beginning, only to have Megatron ignore it all the time. Maybe now he was willing to listen…? He had to know how deep this change was. The small flash of surprise in Megatron’s optics was a hopeful sign.

“I… I am glad to hear that… I must admit that I never expected you to be open to our ways.” – he was almost confused and Optronix hoped desperately that it wouldn’t turn to anger again.

“Because of my Sire? Or you have that low opinion of us, Iaconians?”

“Well… yes. I mean Ultra Magnus has never bent a micrometer during our negotiations and the other Iacon nobles all seemed the same as him. They all behaved like looking down on us, barbarians.” – he struggled not to get angry again and tell Optronix with some choice words just how much the overbearing, arrogant attitude of the Iaconians annoyed him these last few vorns. No, that wouldn’t do at all to lump him together with those mechs again. That was what caused the problems in the first place.

“I can see now that I should have given you a benefit of doubt. You are… you seem different from your Sire.” – there it was. It felt somehow right to say this aloud and he saw Optronix perk up at it too.

“I could never agree with my Sire in virtually anything. His philosophy is that for the good of Iacon and our family any tools, any weapons can be used. Even dishonesty, manipulation, blackmailing… there is nothing he wouldn’t do. Including selling his own creations to force an alliance…” – he suddenly felt the spark-ache again and absentmindedly rubbed his chest plates. – “I never liked or agreed with this attitude, but he was the ruler of Iacon and me… just a pawn.”

“If I’d known this before… many things would have been different.” – Megatron rued now more than ever that he never listened to his mate before. Apparently he could have had a real mate, an ally and more if he had. Well, it might not be too late… - “I seem to have seriously misjudged you.”

Could it be this easy, Optronix wondered. Well, not exactly easy, as it took two painfully long vorns and an unknown event to make him listen, but still, Megatron was shockingly receptive now. The young Iaconian was surer by the klik that something major has happened that caused the warlord to change so fast, so completely. Megatron as much as said that such was the case, only refused to elaborate on it so far. He was open with the overall situation, that Kaon had no need of Iacon any more militarily, so his Sire’s cooperation – such as it was - was not needed either. So whatever the reason was it probably originated within Kaon, from his Nobles… or personally from him.

“It is never late to… change.” – he still didn’t dare to use any strong words, anything that could be perceived as criticism. Megatron apparently had a reason to behave differently than before, but as long as he didn’t know that reason, he didn’t dare to trust him fully. Two vorns was a pretty harsh lesson in that. After all, had he not trusted the warlord in their bonding… and look at how well that had succeeded? He still hasn’t opened up their bond and Optronix was deeply afraid of that too. 

“I fully intend to avoid the previous mistakes, Optronix, I can promise you that.” – Megatron thought that for one sitting they covered quite enough dangerous grounds and tried to change the topic into something lighter. – “I saw that you read about Kaon. Is there anything I can elaborate on, something that datapad didn’t cover?”

Optronix weighed carefully what he wanted to ask and where it could lead to, but in the end he decided that it was necessary for him to know more about this topic.

“Are you frequently… challenged by your nobles? It seems such a strange custom to me.”

Megatron looked almost affronted by the question and Optronix suddenly doubted that it was such a good idea to ask. But then he couldn’t avoid questions forever, especially as it was the warlord telling me to ask them…

“I was called out a few times when I came to power.” – he said gruffly after a charged breem of silence. –“These orns no mech would dare to challenge me. Only a weak ruler or one newly in power would be.” 

His answer, and more than that his tone of voice implied that it was quite insulting to ask such a thing and Optronix was embarrassed at angering him with his first question. But how should he have known…?

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way.” – he ducked his helm, hoping that he didn’t blow all his chances so soon. – “I thought… I mean… I didn’t know how this thing works…”

“I know.” – Megatron looked like he was hard put to swallow back his first reaction, but he managed it. – “I proved myself already, so it’s unlikely that anyone would dare to call me out. You would be challenged because you look physically weaker and smaller.” 

“I can fight, you know.” – ohh, how he wanted to tell this to him… Optronix didn’t even realize how much. He knew that this was probably the only thing about him that Megatron would actually appreciate, but he didn’t know why he craved so much for that little glint of pleasant surprise in those red optics. – “Probably not as much as your mechs, but in Iacon, I could hold out in a fight with almost every one of the palace guards.” 

“I didn’t know that…” – Optronix felt the red gaze slid over his frame and felt that deep dread tremble his insides again, old hurts threatening to flood his processor. He tried pushing them back into his memory banks, so as not to show it just right now that they were talking about his worth and abilities. He’d have to be strong or at least outwardly so to be taken seriously. 

“I tried to tell.” 

“But I didn’t listen… it was my fault, Optronix, I know. I am listening now.” – Megatron sighed a deep ex-vent. This making up was hard work. But he plunged on valiantly. – “I will be interested to see your level of training and arrange to continue it.”

The happy flash of those blue optics rewarded him well for the hard work though. As much as he hated to admit his own terrible judgment earlier, Optronix was proving to be quite the opposite of what he’d assumed the smaller mech to be. Of course he can’t help being smaller, but there were techniques to counter that disadvantage.

“I’ll be glad to show.” – ohh, he knew that any Kaonites would probably laugh at his abilities, but still it would be worth to have a physical exercise after being so inactive for vorns. He lifted his last cube towards Megatron and they drained theirs in a silence that was the least awkward so far between them. Still, Megatron couldn’t miss his flinch when he stood and suddenly towered over the table. Fortunately the servant came in with a good timing to clear away the empty cubes and gave him a chance to escape without further damaging the headway he made so far.

“Good night cycle, Optronix…”


	7. Brothers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundwave appears, but here, he can talk normally. Otherwise he's still the telepath, tape deck, etc, just the speech patterns are normal.

When Megatron left, Optronix stayed at the table, pondering on what they talked about. The warlord seemed honest enough, despite of his avoidance of some topics. Of course he would be honest, the young mech told himself – Kaonites were famous for many bad things but they were said to be honest to the point of rudeness almost. When he thought back, he couldn’t remember Megatron actually lying to him – he mostly didn’t answer. So now that he actually promised to behave nicely and not harm him any more, he must be meaning it. Why, he still didn’t know, but Megatron didn’t lie about that either, only said that they’d discuss it later.

When he thought about it, Optronix could think of one reason – the warlord must have wanted an heir and seeing his declining health and mental state he must have come to a conclusion that it was next to impossible to spark under the circumstances. What made him realize it… that might have been the medic, Hook, who Optronix believed was somewhat sympathetic to his fate even earlier. Yes, this was something he found believable and also something Megatron wouldn’t want to discuss with him before he got better. Which was good, because the thought of interfacing with him still awakened a deep, trembling dread in him.

Finding the reason he could live with, Optronix checked the new screen that he got; as he hoped it included not only an entertainment center but also communication line to the Cybernet. Moreover, he had a two way access, which meant that he could even talk to his family… with only slightly shaking servos and blinking the beginning of tears from his optics, he called up a comms program and searched for almost forgotten usernames. He found Jazz first and shaking with excitement and anxiousness, he placed the call. 

The screen blossomed with the sigil of the Iaconian Ruling House, the system asking back in a text message for the caller’s identity. Of course, Optronix thought, they couldn’t know who he was yet from the unfamiliar calling ID. Typing in his name and title; Optronix Prime, Consort of Megatron, Warlord of Kaon, he waited a few kliks more, chewing anxiously on his lipplates, before the sigil abruptly disappeared and Jazz’s incredulous faceplate filled the screen.

“OPTRONIX!”

Optronix laughed, truly laughed in happiness for the first time in vorns to see his brother’s face again. 

“Yes, Jazz, it’s me! So good to see you again. I missed you so much…!”

“What happened ta you? You’re like disappeared from the face of Cybertron after the bonding, we got absolutely no news of you!”

“Long story… and not all of it is nice.” – Optronix didn’t want to tell all the gruesome details, but he owed a little explanation for Jazz – “Megatron kept me locked up tighter than a prisoner.”

“Why? What did the fragger…”

“Kaonite customs… he said that his nobles would challenge me and so it was for my protection. It took him this long to realize that I was bored out of my processor here.”

Jazz took a good long look at him and - instinctly and logically - he knew just how far it was from being the full truth. But he was also a royal and Ultra Magnus’s creation and knew that not all things can be said on an open comm line. Optronix looked all right, if a bit tired and insecure and those were alarming in itself. Besides, no challenge or custom could explain the communications being cut completely for so long.

“Are you… all right, Opty? – he asked in a worried voice, the starting happiness vying in his processor with the worry that started to rise.

“I…” – Optronix hesitated for a very telling klik – “I’ll be now.”

For such a short sentence it told a lot to Jazz, just as Optronix intended. He wouldn’t lie, but he couldn’t tell the complete truth either. He wasn’t so naïve to think that the line he used was in any way private. No more than the chambers. It wasn’t even personal, he supposed; probably all the palace connections were monitored by default.

“But don’t worry about that. I can contact you now any time and we can talk. I have almost everything here and even promise for more.”

“What about the… you know, your bond…?”

“It isn’t what I expected… but everything just can’t be perfect.”

“You are not happy.” – it wasn’t a question any more and Jazz started to get an inkling of things unsaid which he didn’t like at all. 

“I… I’m hoping.” – Optronix wasn’t one to lie and it wasn’t something he could prevaricate either. No, he most definitely wasn’t happy, although he had a very small, cautious hope that he might be again… one orn. If everything turned out to be right. Which, considering his luck so far was a pretty long shot… – “Don’t misunderstand me… I’m not complaining, but it is… complicated.”

“Ah see. Anyway, it is good ta see you again, ta be able to talk. Ah hope it won’t change ta the worse again…?”

“I hope that too. But tell me about Iacon, I miss everything there… how is everymech?”

“As well as expected… Sire is the same, the twins are the same, although they miss you too, and Sentinel is getting more like Sire every orn.”

Jazz’s grimace told volumes to Optronix – he knew just how Sentinel turned out. He was the only one among the brothers who actually agreed with their Sire in everything, taking after him completely. Optronix never liked Ultra Magnus’s pompous heir and since he started to be interested in the state matters, he’s been worried about Iacon under his eldest brother’s rule. As much as Sentinel took after their Sire, he definitely lacked in strength of character even compared to his creator. It was one small factor why he agreed to the bonding – to get as far as he could from Sentinel’s eventual rule. Because the blue mech expected all his younger brothers to defer to him – and their Sire never told him otherwise. 

“Well, at least not much changed back at h…” – he couldn’t say home, not anymore. Iacon wasn’t his home and it’d never be again. – “…in Iacon. What about you? Is Sire still pressing you to bond?”

“He’ll never stop Ah guess. But Ah won’t bond on his say-so and he knows it. So he is huckstering Rodimus out these orns.”

“What? Rodimus is not even of age!”

“That’s never stopped him. Besides he’ll be of age in a few vorns, so he is eligible to be betrothed if necessary.”

“True enough… what is he planning with him?”

“Nothing definite yet. The kingdoms are pretty peaceful these orns and not much is going on since your… mate took over Tarn.” – the scowl in Jazz’s face was clearly visible when he said ‘mate’. The more he listened to Optronix the more he wanted to grab Megatron and teach him manners, however impossible that was, what with the difference in their frame-sizes and strength. Even with Optronix not saying any details it was obvious that he wasn’t happy and might have been even abused. But since his brother apparently didn’t want to talk about it and implied that there was a change to the better, he kept his anger at check for his sake.

“He did? I wouldn’t know… Megatron is not a talkative kind and it’s been an orn only since I have access to the net.”

“He did and now all his neighbors tremble in fear as ta who is next. There is even talk of an alliance against him if he attacks any more of them.”

“I don’t think he wants to start another war soon…”

“Why?”

“If my guess is right, he wants an heir.”

“That means he hasn’t got one yet.” – Jazz looked at him thoughtfully. – “It is really not my place, but… what the Pit you two were doing for two vorns? No, don’t answer that.”

“It’s a… long story.”

“I bet. Look, Opty, I’d love to talk more but Sire’s commed me to go ta him now. Gotta go.”

“No problem, Jazz. We can talk now any time.”

“Good luck Opty… something tells me you need it.”

After the connection was cut, Optronix sat in front of the screen for a long while. As good as it felt to talk with Jazz, it stirred up his memories that so far he managed to keep deep inside his memory banks, safely away from his awareness. Now, it all ached on a level he didn’t know was possible, almost like a real hurt, a physical injury. He’d meant to talk with some others too but right now it felt like a bad idea. He might not be able to keep his misery out of his faceplates and voice and that would be bad. The twins, if they felt him unhappy might just come over to try and teach Megatron manners. They might even take Jazz with them.

Standing up, he retreated onto the berth again, almost hiding amongst the pillows. He barely had enough resolve to pick up the datapad he choose earlier and hasn’t finished yet. Reading has calmed him down somewhat and in a little while he was able to concentrate on what he was reading. Kaon was his future, Optronix knew. Memories were bittersweet at best as they were gone forever, never to come back. 

-o-o-o-

“Do you think he believes me?”

“Not yet. He needs time. More time than you expect, Megatron. So far he associates you with painful things and it can’t be changed in a few orns.”

“I know that! I know he doesn’t trust me yet! But does he believe that I mean what I promised?” – for Megatron it was important to know. 

“I think he wants to. But it is not so easy either, as you think, brother.” – Soundwave was serious. Megatron never understood emotions and Soundwave sometimes cursed their Sire’s decision to raise him away from their carrier, to be trained the perfect warrior and ruler. The mech became an unbeatable fighter and a perfect leader for Kaon - but he managed to botch up his bond royally while he sent Soundwave away to play ambassador in Iacon. Shockwave, of course was no help to him in emotional matters, he was even worse in that area than Megatron.

“That, I know.” – Megatron scowled as they watched Optronix talk with his brother. – “I guess I have to be satisfied with that.”

Soundwave listed the power series of two in his processor before answering. It helped to keep his calm greatly. He wouldn’t look into his brother’s processor without him asking for it, but he rarely needed to use any telepathy. Megatron was like an unencrypted datapad with those he trusted in.

“Megatron, you should be glad that he responds at all. What you did so far was quite atrocious. I still can’t believe that you actually forced him to interface… and injured him with it too.”

Megatron actually looked sheepish for a change – an expression he would have never allowed to show had they got any company at all. But they were alone in Megatron’s private rooms, Soundwave enjoying the familiar surroundings and the company of his brother; much as he despaired sometimes with Megatron’s obtuseness in certain matters, he loved him as brother. Many mechs, many nobles tried to turn the brothers against each other to create a power struggle in the small kingdom, not enjoying the same illustrious history as the older city-states. Kaon was a real power only since the Cybertronium-mines brought wealth and Megatron’s sire, Galvatron brought military success to the formerly poor and unimportant Kaonite mountains. But none of those mechs understood the loyalty that connected the brothers together. 

“He seemed willing at first.” – Megatron shrugged at last. As far as he was concerned, Optronix agreed to the bonding and the interface, so it wasn’t like he was forcing him to do either. Breaking the seals hurt, especially with a size difference like they had. If the Iaconian didn’t know it, then it was his problem, his lack of education. So he was quite surprised at the whack on his helm from the irate-looking Soundwave. – “Hey!”

“Brother mine, you are an aft.”

Megatron growled. He wouldn’t have taken it so peacefully from anymech else but Soundwave, but it was useless to be angry at him. Especially when he was right.

“ _Willing_ is not nearly enough when it is a question of a bondmate – as you have learned Megatron.”

“I can’t court him now. I won’t!”

“You can and you will. He is not an enemy army to be conquered.” – Soundwave ignored Megatron murmuring that _it would be easier if he was_ and continued. – “I don’t expect you to simper and woo him and neither does Optronix, just… do you feel anything towards him?”

“I… I don’t know. I suppose he is easy on the optics and not as bad as I first thought.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” – Megatron quickly hid the forming pout on his lip-plates. It was too close to showing weakness and that, he didn’t allow even his brothers to see. – “I think I like his attitude.”

“That’s a step in the right direction… how does the bond feel?”

“Like always. Closed.”

Soundwave stared at his brother completely shocked. 

“You kept your bond locked down all the time?”

“Yes. It was disturbing. I can’t have distractions in a battle.”

Megatron stared back at his brother defiantly, sure that he had a reason for it so it was all right. Only… Soundwave looked disapproving of it and the warlord’s conviction had trembled suddenly. 

“Megatron, bondmates can function with an open bond all the time. It can be closed for short times, but not kept that way always!”

“Why not? It is slagging annoying to feel somemech else’s feelings. Especially his…”

“Megatron, you caused those feelings that you don’t want to feel. You’d deserve to feel them all.”

“I’m not you, Brother! You dealt with others’ thoughts and emotions all your function.”

“But that is the bond for… to learn it. Not to isolate yourself from it!”

“Why?”

“Because once you learn to handle emotions, they can be helpful. A bondmate can support you, care for you, love you…”

“I don’t slagging need support or care from an Iaconian!” – Megatron’s exasperation came out in a roar, rarely if ever directed to Soundwave. – “I need an heir!”

“That’s the other half of the problem. With a closed bond, with your attitude towards him, you can’t merge sparks fully. Without a full merge, it is next to impossible to spark. This is why it took two vorns… a healthy, young mech with a full merge can spark almost at once.”

Megatron stared back to him, shocked wordless and unable to even feel his earlier anger. So not only he caused the termination of the newspark, but even his interfaces were… pretty much useless? Soundwave looked at him unsympathetic, expecting him to realize the true extent of his idiocy. 

“I… but… I can’t open the bond.”

“Why?”

“Because…” – Megatron paused. He kept it closed because he thought that he hated the Iaconian. But at their last meeting and talk, he promised to be more… open. Not that he meant the bond, but eventually, he would have to do that too. For now, he settled for a weak excuse… – “Because he’d know about the sparkling then.”

Soundwave looked at him strangely.

“You truly don’t know how bonds work.” – he didn’t even ask it, the fragger.

“Tell me then!” – it came out just shy of a shout. Fortunately Soundwave wouldn’t be insulted by his tone.

“Bonds don’t just have an ‘open’ and a ‘closed’ state. They can be opened in increments, slowly, to get used to each other. Also you, as the stronger, dominant mate can direct what the other sees, learns and not just let him see all your memory banks.”

“That’s… good to know.”

“But I don’t suggest throwing it open right now, after being a complete aft about it. Talk to him and tell it. Tell him what you told me now. Try to open it up together and slowly.”

Megatron glowered at his brother darkly and Soundwave felt a real temptation to throw his arms into the air and storm out – throw a tantrum more like Megatron himself than his generally calm and collected self. And how much Frenzy would love to see that!

“No, brother mine it is NOT a weakness to get to know your mate and discover things together!”

“I KNOW!” – Megatron roared back, and continued on a slightly lower volume. – “But in a way, it is… isn’t it?”

“No, it isn’t. It can be a strength. I do not imply that you _need_ his support, but he can still give you some. Why do you insist on leaving him out of your life? Why should he trust you if you don’t intend to be honest?”

“I…” – Megatron was balking. Soundwave was right, he promised some things to Optronix which he didn’t intend to keep… and it was wrong. It wasn’t him to lie and deceive mechs, so why now? – “I was going to… just later.”

“Megatron… you said you want to fix the mess you’d made. Go then and solve it. Don’t hide behind excuses. Yes, it will be hard and you must act in a way that you unfamiliar with. But without meaning it, it will be impossible.”

Megatron’s answer was no more than a tired grunt but Soundwave knew that what he said has _finally!_ gone through his thick helm. Had it not he’d be still shouting after all.

-o-o-o-

Optronix came online from his recharge to strange noises. It was like the palace was under siege with all the clanging and banging that sounded from fairly close to his rooms. He was off the berth quickly, but the window gave no indication for the source which had to be, now that he thought of it, inside the palace itself. He was reading late last orn, catching up on his favourite pastime after missing it for so long and it was quite far into the day cycle as well – since it has never been important, he hardly cared about the proper parts of the orn any more. 

“Avara? What is this noise?” – he asked the servant coming in and bringing him the small cubes on a tray. 

“I saw the rooms next to this one under construction, but I don’t know the reason, my Lord.”

“W-who is living there?” – he never worried about such things as he never heard any noise from nearby living quarters, but suddenly a strange nervousness started up in him. 

“No mech, as far as I saw.” – Avara shrugged a bit as he was tidying up the strewn datapads on the side table – “Maybe Lord Megatron is going to move in? But I truly don’t know.” – he added, seeing the tiny trembling in the young mech’s frame. 

Optronix nodded to him for an answer, not knowing what to think about that. Much as he wanted to grab the opportunity and make Megatron friendlier, he couldn’t help but feel dread whenever he was mentioned, even casually. He hoped that in time it would get better, but so far not much has changed – all that stood between the horrible past and any kind of hope he held was the warlord’s promise. He could do nothing else but trust him… but that trust was still tenuous, tentative and very fragile. 

Optronix has just come out of the wash racks, refreshed and relaxed when Megatron came in. They both froze at their respective doorways, nervousness quickly replacing Optronix’s relaxed mood and the warlord’s determination. Avara, sensing the rising tensions, offered them both energon goodies and a tray of cubes to choose from, unobtrusively herding them towards the sitting area of the main room. He didn’t expect them to sit close, but the same room was an achievement. Chattering inconsequentials while their first bout of anxiety passed, he left the room as soon as he saw Lord Megatron glowering at him. 

“W-what…”

“Optronix…”

They started to speak at the same time, stopping abruptly after the first words. A ghost of a smile drew the corner of Optronix’s mouthplates upwards at the awkwardness of the situation and he gestured to Megatron to continue.

“Yes. Umm. I wanted to… I mean I’d like to…” – _slag, this was harder than fighting_ , he thought fleetingly – “… talk about our bond.”

A sharp pain flared up in Optronix’s spark, but he hid it.

“Y-you want to… open it…?” – he asked with only a slight trembling – “I…”

Megatron looked uncomfortable, but apologetic. Shifting where he sat, he barely glanced at the younger mech opposite to him, on a separate seat.

“I seem to have had misconceptions about a spark bond.” – he looked away from the young Iaconian – “I never had the reason to learn about them, as I never wanted to bond. So…”

“You don’t know how it works?” – Optronix was shocked so much it even replaced his fear. It explained much – not that it excused some things but slowly he saw that the warlord wasn’t as bad as he thought, that most of his actions stemmed from simply not knowing. 

“Well… My brother, Soundwave – whom you’ll meet later by the way – enlightened me that it is not like I’d thought.”

“In what way? We’ve been all – I mean my brothers and I – taught about bonding.” – he lifted a brow plate and continued – “Of course we all knew that we would be bonded, to secure and help Iacon’s future.”

“I was taught about war, fighting and such matters. Spark bonds and bonding in general, definitely weren’t in my curriculum.” – Megatron answered gruffly. 

“It is understandable, my Lord…” – Optronix tried to make it easier for him from simple self-interest; an angry Megatron was something he feared, so diverting his anger was a necessary tactic.

“You can call me on my designation, you know?” 

“Y-yes… of course…” – Optronix tried to avoid that so far, as it sounded far too direct and familial – “M-megatron…”

“I want to open this bond between us, but… I don’t want to cause you distress. Or force you something you don’t want to.”

“I had always hoped that it would make you… closer, more understanding of me…” – Optronix answered quietly. He wouldn’t tell his sparkache at the disinterest that the cold, closed bond meant, but if he truly didn’t know how it worked… 

“Does it mean that you’d be, you know amenable to try it?”

“What, a merge?” – he looked alarmed, ready to bolt.

“No! Just, you know, the bond. To see what it feels like.” – Megatron felt rather stupid at the moment, because he didn’t know why Optronix associated to a merge. 

“B-but… it’s up to you… it is open at my side.” – Optronix glanced bemused at him, not quite believing that he was this ignorant on how bonds worked. 

Megatron frowned at that, because he didn’t like to feel inscient about anything. He also didn’t feel like delving into another mech’s being or emotions, however small degree… but he promised it to Soundwave to try, owed it to his… bondmate and so he had to try. Grabbing another cube from the table, this time a potent Backfire to cover his hesitancy he noticed Optronix also fortifying himself with one. 

“I guess… I guess we are both nervous about it.” – he grumbled, giving up pretending otherwise. – “I have no wish to hurt you or…”

“Just open the link, please…”

He saw Optronix scuttling a bit closer on the recliner, slightly trembling, but his exotic, blue optics determined and expectant. He realized that in this area, the young Iaconian was probably more knowledgeable than him – and if he wanted the bond after everything, then it could not be that bad. Megatron turned his attention inward and examined the link in his spark that so far ignored completely, probing and hesitantly prodding the barely there connection.

Now, that he paid attention to it, he felt a slight, insistent nudge in it – and looking up, into those blue optics, he knew that it was Optronix, sort of… knocking on that particular door. He had no idea how to open it though. Then, as he thought about it, he’d closed the bond by will, simply imagining it that way, so the opposite action should be no different. Ex-venting heavily, his denta grinding in the effort, he formed a mental image of a door cracking open slightly, casting light rays into a dark room. 

Slowly, he became aware of sensations that sure weren’t his own trickling through the link. They felt… lighter somehow, more open and optimistic, young and curious… even though they had a nervous quality in them as well. They almost… tickled, Megatron supposed that was how he could express it, not bad, not inimical, but still strange. He wasn’t at all used to feel somemech else’s emotions and it made him wish to close that symbolical door. But as the connection narrowed down and the flow of emotions dried up, lastly he felt a sorrow so deep that it hit his fuel tank like a ton of weigh. 

It flickered in Optronix’s optics too, in the trembling of those full dermas, and it made him feel ashamed for closing the door on him so soon, just because it felt strange to him. Pulling his processor together, he willed the connection to open again, this time more ready for the feel of another in his spark. Megatron cautiously opened the bond up again, felt the joy for doing so and tasted the alien emotions that his mate sent him, the curious, trusting and honest interest, the wish to be accepted, tinged with fear and dread, but brave enough to reach out to him. 

The young Iaconian was even more exotic inside than he looked outwardly – and Megatron couldn’t deny this time that both drew him, enticed and interested him greatly. He felt his fans start up as his frame heated and a tiny thread of lust leaked back to his mate. The effect was immediate – the blind terror that flamed up and caused the wide-opticked, gasping youngster to draw away in the bond and in reality too… Megatron flinched as his arousal died down in shame and made an aborted move to caress the shaking red shoulder. He caused Optronix to react this way to the subject and it was just now that he actually felt how deep, how strong this reaction was. 

“I promised not to hurt you that way again, Optronix. I won’t.”

The bond wasn’t open enough for articulated thoughts, so he spoke up, but at the same time tried to send regret and assurance to Optronix through it. He was actually glad to see the jerky nod from him that was the only answer. The terror slowly abated as the smaller mech visibly struggled to put it aside and replace it with more positive feelings, stilling his trembling and regulate his vents.

“I do consider you beautiful though.” – _there, it was a compliment, he should love it_ , Megatron thought, carefully shielded from his mate – “I hope that you don’t find me… hideous. We Kaonites are very different from what you are used to.”

“N-no! I’ve always thought you… attractive. Strong, able and… intimidating.”

A tiny thread of marvel and envy came through the bond and Megatron realized that this way, he could be sure of the truth of what was being said. It was one advantage of the bond, he admitted to himself, while preening slightly at the admiration that he could be sure was not just a façade, not just to garner his favor, like outsiders often acted around him. He sent back an honest, but carefully not lustful acceptance to Optronix and was rewarded by those exotic blue optics flickering in a surprised happiness. 

They were actually connecting through the bond, discovering each other cautiously and Megatron found that he didn’t mind it as well as he’d expected it earlier. It was certainly strange to feel another mech’s emotions, but tolerable, because Optronix interested him and he felt the other mech’s similar curiosity too. After a few breems, he even found that it was harder to keep the connection to its present, narrow way and not throw the bond fully open. He guessed that neither of them was ready for that; besides their present connection was in itself a big enough step forward.

Megatron shifted on the seat, careful not to close the slight distance between himself and his mate. He was surprised but satisfied that the smaller mech drew closer and closer to him during their exploring of the bond but knew for a fact that he should not do the same; that one mistake in the bond told him clearly how Optronix would react to any move on him. But he was close enough that their fields touched, exchanging flickers of emotions this way too, beside the bond. 

They sat there for nearly a joor; Megatron a bit stiff and overly careful, while Optronix more open and outgoing, testing himself just as he did with the warlord. That neither of them failed that testing was nearly a miracle and both of them knew, felt it too. Too much has happened for their relationship to be easy, too many mines were buried on that particular minefield.

After Megatron – somewhat reluctantly – left, Optronix realized that he completely forgotten to ask about the constructions nearby. Avara came in and they chatted easily, the servant telling him about the palace, the nobles, even Megatron’s brothers, whom Optronix knew only from the bonding ceremony, but would meet as soon as he was ready, the warlord told him. He wasn’t looking forward to that, expecting them to be similar to Megatron, just without his newfound compassion.


	8. Courting Kaon style

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Dreadnought is based mainly on Galvatron.  
> Note2: the name of the weapon mentioned in the second part, the bat’leth, is used from Star Trek, so that the readers can visualize the blade. It is something a Kaonite would use, I guess.

Optronix checked his appearance the last time in the mirror, Avara quietly and dutifully rubbing every single, mostly imagined spots from the mirror finish of his plating. He was nervous, even more so than the times Megatron visited him lately – after a few such meetings the warlord became less of a terror for him and their conversations slowly smoothed out. Megatron wasn’t the most talkative of mechs Optronix knew, but he did have a fierce pride in the city-state he ruled and could be coaxed to talk about it with little problem. 

But this time… this time it was going to be different. Soundwave, Megatron’s brother was going to come with him and Optronix didn’t know the mech at all. Dimly he remembered a large, silent, blue mech from the bonding party and Megatron did say that he was his ambassador and main diplomatic advisor, but it all said nothing about the mech himself. He only remembered that neither of Megatron’s brothers approved of his bonding with the warlord and all indicated that it was his person that they had issues with.

Not very promising signs and Optronix wanted to make a better impression now, reinforced with some knowledge and tempered with his experiences. The problem was that he still wasn’t, couldn’t be sure of Megatron and his newfound favorable attitude. He was still alone in a sense that he couldn’t count on him for support that a bondmate should give. Their meeting went long ways towards learning each other through the bond but long-time habits were hard to overcome.

Pronouncing himself ready outwardly, Optronix quieted his doubts, tucked away the fears and tried to look as strong and capable as a bondmate to the Kaon Warlord should be. He cast one last glance into the mirror, wiped the last, lingering doubt from his optics and felt ready to meet his visitors. He barely stepped into the sitting room when he saw Megatron entering and behind him the dark blue mech that had to be Soundwave. Optronix drew himself up straight and proud, displaying all the presence he could muster with his comparatively smaller size.

“Optronix.” – Megatron greeted him with a single, terse word, as usual and by this time the young mech knew that he wasn’t angry with him or frustrated in general as he’d thought for long – just himself. 

“Lord Megatron.” – he nodded back, giving him the appropriate answer with his title which in the presence of another was required, while carefully keeping a neutral, self-confident façade.

Soundwave stepped around his brother and greeted Optronix in a far more friendly fashion, holding out one servo with palm up and the particular flick of the wrist joint in the Iaconian way of greeting and coming far closer than Kaonites usually did. Even his frame language wasn’t threatening, despite of still being larger than the younger mech.

“Lord Optronix, I am honoured to meet you.”

“Ohh… he’s my brother, Soundwave.”

Megatron caught up a little too late, introducing him and Optronix saw the small scowl in his faceplates at that. But he made no sign to show that he noticed it, instead answered to the greeting with the appropriate gesture and words, hiding his surprise and a tiny tinge of homesickness at the familiar moves. 

“Lord Soundwave, I am the one honored by your visit and kind words.”

“Soundwave is my ambassador and knows far more about Iacon that I ever cared to learn.” – Megatron motioned them towards the table, having learned that taking energon together was a good way to diffuse potentially tense moments. They sat around the table and Avara quietly offered the platter around with several kinds of energon in small, ornate cubes and some treats as well. After taking their selection, the servant mech silently withdrew until called, to let the Lords talk freely.

“What my brother meant is that I lived in Iacon for the past few groons and learned its customs somewhat.” – Soundwave inserted smoothly – “I also have several messages and some objects that your family and friends sent to you.”

Neither of them missed the sudden, unbelieving but hopeful flash in the blue optics and the perking up of the small antennae. Happiness flooded his system commingled with a rush of nostalgia, creating a bittersweet mix of emotions that washed over his expressive face. It was just a klik and Optronix was visibly fighting to hide his reaction and replace it with a carefully deferential one, looking at Megatron.

“If my Lord allows…?” – the question was expected, even though he knew that Soundwave wouldn’t even have mentioned the matter had he not cleared it with Megatron first. The flash of approval in those red optics told him that he acted appropriately. Megatron nodded, satisfied and even a bit proud of his… bondmate; an emotion surprising him greatly. He sat back, letting his brother handle the conversation, while he was observing the young Iaconian in this new situation.

“Of course. You may accept any gifts from your former family.”

“Thank you, my Lord.”

Optronix still knew that he’d have to wait for the packets until the end of the dinner, but it was a hurdle that he took successfully. Every such test was a step toward being accepted by the picky Kaonites who, according to the datapads and the hints Megatron dropped, hardly ever deigned to consider foreigners as capable to live up to their way of life. But at least he now had a chance… however slim and uncertain it still looked.

“Iacon is certainly quite different from Kaon. I am not surprised that misunderstandings… even mistakes were made at first.” – Soundwave continued smoothly – “Besides my brother was raised to rule Kaon and his education sadly lacked the parts that for example I was trained in. Our creator raised us all for a specific role, which in hindsight might have been a mistake.”

Megatron glowered darkly at his brother but it seemingly didn’t disturb the blue mech at all. Nodding his helm to the side slightly, he nearly smiled before reworking his emotionless façade. Optronix watched the exchange curiously, sure that he was missing something there, but he didn’t know what.

“I understand it now, Lord Soundwave.” – he answered at last – “Now that I know our differences, I am fully intending to remove them from the path of our common future.”

“It is my intention as well…”

“We can’t change being Kaonites or dissolve customs that existed for megavorns, but we do understand now the differences and can help you to adjust… until you can feel at home here.”

Optronix privately doubted that last statement would ever come true, or at least didn’t attach much hope to it, but he was willing to try to achieve it. Shifting slightly on his seat, he nevertheless answered smoothly, not betraying his private thoughts.

“I understand that by coming here and becoming part of the Kaon ruling clan, it is me who has to change.” – that was what he’d wanted from the very start, after all – “Which I will endeavor to do so to the best of my abilities.”

“The limitation on your lifestyle will be lifted slowly, as we can ensure your safety. No harm will come to you again, that I can promise. Even my brother understood the wrongs of his ways by now.”

“I…” – Optronix suddenly felt his intakes dry and swallowed convulsively – “I’d like some kind of a proof for that first…”

“I gave you my word, Optronix.” – Megatron just refrained from growling.

“I understand your uncertainty, but we Kaonites would never lie in such matter – “Soundwave was far more diplomatic than his brother – “Megatron promised that to you and I pledge so too. We will not allow you to come to harm from others and neither from… ourselves.”

The atmosphere in the room tensed ever so slightly, the three mechs servos tightening on their cubes. There was nothing more to be said in the matter, but was it enough, the Kaonites wondered. Energon was consumed in terse silence, swift glances jumped from mechs to neutral targets and back, treats were offered like peace-gifts and accepted likewise. The charged silence was broken by Megatron, who got bored by nothing happening and stood suddenly, offering an arm to the surprised Optronix.

“Perhaps you are curious as to the changes next room? They do involve you after all.”

“Of course!”

The anteroom now had a new door opening to the newly created space by his quarters. Optronix let Megatron lead them there, his arm strong and steady under his one. Optronix firmed up his cables and didn’t let his arm tremble, not even slightly at the closeness, at the touching. They walked the few steps till the door in silence, the young mech feeling the measuring stare of Soundwave too on his back plates. It was possibly the longest lasting five steps he ever took. 

Once the door opened, he forgot the tenseness though, as the view beyond it was completely unexpected. It wasn’t living quarters after all, so his secret fear that Megatron moved in closer were gone. The large open space was furbished for physical exercises, wrestling or sparring; with uncountable weapons decorating the walls or positioned on stands. Optronix didn’t even recognize half of them from his earlier training. The weapons weren’t just decorative either; they were visibly well-used, telltale scratches on black handles and discolorations on the embossed designs of the sheaths gave that away. But they were all superb quality, well maintained and in perfect condition.

“Your weapons…” – he whispered, glancing at Megatron for confirmation. At the nod he marveled inwardly. His bondmate used more weapons – and used them a lot by the look of it – than he even knew the name of. The oft-read and heard phrase that Kaonites were warriors and lived for war and fighting suddenly gained a new depth. And Megatron was their ruler, by definition the best of them. 

“We don’t use our weapons like Iaconians, to pompously decorate walls and let them go blunt in disuse. We use them in war.”

“They are… amazing.” – he didn’t even have to exaggerate. The weapons were all the finest quality metals known on Cybertron, their finish practical but flamboyant at the same time with all the black reliefs and the red gems that flashed from their shaded niches like so many watchful optics. The designs incorporated the Kaonite motifs, Megatron’s own personal sigil, the sharp, pointed face of Unicron and interestingly many wings of different designs, from turbohawks till Seeker ones. 

Optronix slid a careful digit along one particularly beautiful, long, slightly curved hilt of a sword, marveling at the unique texture of it…

“That’s organic.” – Megatron told behind him and Optronix completely forgot to flinch in fright at the surprising fact. Organic materials were rarer than living crystals and more expensive too. – “It’s called wood, a kind of a growing, crystal-like structure. It makes superb hilts and handles but one must get used to its texture – it is quite different from metals.”

“It is amazing…”

Optronix nearly burned with the yearning to pick up the beautiful sword and try swinging it, no matter that it was designed for a bigger grip and a larger mech than he – but _it was Megatron’s_ , his processor whispered, he mustn’t do it, Kaonites had a special relationship with their weapons, as the saying went they if it were possible they’d bond with them instead of their mates… no, he really shouldn’t _want_ so strongly to try it… he might have a chance in time, if only he could be patient.

Especially as it was impossible that this place was here a few orns ago, Optronix glanced around for confirmation. It was brand new and only the weapons had the signs of wear on them, not the furniture, the mats, the walls… the place was built here anew, connected to his quarters and it meant that it was for him as well. He could use it… might use it alone too.

“Yes, you may train here and we might spar, once I saw your level of expertise with the weapons available.” – Megatron still stood close to him but for once Optronix didn’t mind it. He was having a joyful meltdown, or near so. Inwardly of course. Sparring with Megatron? Pit, even if he was ‘killed’ at every bout, it would be worth it. It didn’t awaken that fear in him that other kinds of closeness still did occasionally.

“I must admit that I don’t even recognize some of these instruments.” – He said once he regained his voice – “But I am eager to learn them all… perfect them all I mean.”

“Good.” – the predatory smile on Megatron’s lipplates wasn’t frightening for once, because it wasn’t aimed at him. The warlord was in a situation that was natural to him, with an eager and appropriately awed mech hanging on his words… – “I will teach you all.”

They spent the next few joors in there, going over each weapon that Optronix pointed out as unknown to him, Megatron showing him their strengths, weaknesses and basic use, while enjoying the surprisingly adequate, pertinent questions that showed the younger mech’s general weapons’ knowledge and eagerness to learn. It all went far better than any of them would have thought and they were nearly sorry to have to part.

“In a few orns we’ll be sparring, Optronix.” – Megatron promised before leaving, glad that he found a common ground for them that didn’t involve the smaller mechs shy away from him continuously. Soundwave lingered a few kliks more to pass over the gifts and even after, he turned back to Optronix from the doorway.

“You know, in Kaon it is considered courting when a mech gifts weapons or spars with the one they desire even if he is weaker.”

“I have read about it, yes. It is a strange… but I guess it is fitting.”

“He is trying.” – Soundwave’s voice was suddenly somber – “He behaved atrociously and is still lacking a lot in the empathy department, but he definitely wants to make this bond work now.”

“I can see that… but I don’t understand the reason for the sudden change. You won’t tell it either… I guess.”

“Trust me Optronix, it is better if you discover it at a later time, in a hopefully stronger relationship between the two of you. It wouldn’t do any good to reveal it now.”

“I see. You still don’t consider me strong enough to know it then.”

“No. I don’t. You are very young yet. But you will learn.” – and with that the blue mech was outside the door, leaving the bemused Optronix behind. Kaonites certainly didn’t beat around the bush – they either told you what they wanted or thought bluntly or not at all. Hints and roundabout ways were not for them.

All in all, a successful orn, he thought, despite of the questions still nagging him unanswered. Eagerly, he tore the packet open and half laughed, half cried seeing its contents… Jazz, it must have been Jazz, who sent all his things that he had to leave behind when he was brought here. Datapads, crystal shards and small stones, each with an attached memory, his favourite painting by Sunstreaker that Sentinel has always wanted to appropriate from him but never managed it, the small statue that Jazz carved for him from a particularly beautiful, unique red-blue crystal… Optronix happily surrounded himself with the mementos, feeling his mood perfect for once, probably the first time since he got here. The orn was an unmitigated success.

-o-o-o-

He hoped that the next meeting would be similarly pleasant, or at least bearable with another of Megatron’s brother coming to pay him a visit. A few orns have gone before it happened, with Megatron coming and showing his weapons, teaching him… but putting off sparring reluctantly. Dreadnought… unfortunately even the mech’s name made him uneasy as it was; Optronix remembered the huge, grey and dark purple mech glowering at him angrily during the bonding ceremony. This time he would need all his wits not to show any ‘weakling’ reaction, no matter how provoked.

Optronix sighed as he checked the time yet again. Nearly there… he moved out, into the living room and heard their steps approaching, the outer door open and… he felt like a glitchmouse suddenly, completely dwarfed by the two huge mechs. Megatron, he was somewhat used to by this time and the mech, he realized did make an effort to appear nonthreatening, stayed farther from him, moved slower and never touched him without first signalling it in some way. 

In short, he did everything that his brother deliberately eschewed. Optronix steeled his resolve and refused to step back when Dreadnought purposely moved into the room fast and towered over him from far too close for comfort. The mech was even bigger than Megatron, his shocked processor whispered him dazedly and bristling even without any weapons in sight. The low growl that seemed to originate somewhere at the bottom of his pedes nearly shook the Iaconian’s lighter plating from up close. 

“L-lord Dreadnought…” – he hoped that his voice was steady enough and the slight stammer overlooked.

“Easy, Dread…” – Megatron’s voice was tinged with some growl on his own, but his was directed to his brother along with the flash of the red optics.

It made the purple mech back off a little bit and Optronix ex-vented a tiny sigh of relief and escaped to the relative safety of the table kept between them. He carefully kept his expression strong and unyielding, no matter the nearly jelly-like inner trembling in his tanks.

“ _Lord_ Optronix.” – the huge mech grated out with an almost sneer and a mocking, small bow – “What an _honour_ to our House to see such a _thing_ like yourself here…”

The derisive insult wasn’t even hidden and Optronix froze for a nanoklik. This mech will never be on his side, he felt instinctly and the thought gave him a new strength, a strange, defiant resolve. Diplomacy or even compliance will never win him over like with Soundwave. But he wasn’t going to allow to be scorned so in front of his bondmate. He felt the bond open slightly and strong support, encouragement flow across it. His optics widened momentarily before Optronix pulled himself up fully, flared his plating aggressively and answered in a strong, steady, but ice-cold voice.

“My Lord, the honour is mine to be received with such kindness that you just displayed.”

Dreadnought stared back at him with heavy brow-plates lifted for nearly a breem before reacting with his fists tightening at his side. Optronix peripherally noticed the slight smirk on Megatron’s lipplates and felt the approval flow through the bond. It calmed him and the inner trembling eased off somewhat. The mech could still squash him with a blow… but neither would he do it, nor would Megatron allow it. He’s survived round one.

“Admit it Dread… that was rude even for you.” – Megatron appeared superficially amused but he flashed yet another warning glance to his brother.

“My… apologies.” – he grated it out with fangs clenched together and red optics flaring naked fire at Optronix. Great, the Iaconian thought, now he gained an outright enemy.

“Let’s sit and calm down a bit.” – Optronix suggested in that still cold, calculated voice. Slag if he was going to show anything but basic courtesy to such a rude mech. – “So we could speak civilly at least.”

That earned him a raised upper lipplate, showing off deadly fangs again but he sat at the table, opposite to Optronix, who wasn’t going to complain about the arrangement. Megatron deliberately pushed a chair closer to his side and the young mech was immensely glad, not to mention thankful for the support visibly and within the bond. It was unexpected but nearly a lifeline right then.

“I heard that my Lord is the strongest general in the Kaonite army.” – Optronix tried to sound praising as he remembered on of the topics he’d wanted to speak about – “I found it curious how you and our brothers divided the rule of Kaon among yourselves. It is an envy of many city-states, I’m told.”

“It is indeed. Our Creator ruled alone and found that he could not master all fields that was required, so he’d decided to divide it among us, brothers. It worked out perfectly, as we are the best in our respective fields and together we are unbeatable.” - Megatron explained it. – “A perfect city-state needs not only a ruler, a military leader but diplomacy and science as well.”

“I can see it… Kaon’s might is nearly unmatched on Cybertron.” – Optronix deduced from Dreadnought’s proud aggression and posturing stance that he was the so-called muscle of the outfit. Not very bright, probably that’s why he didn’t become the warlord even though he was the eldest. Soundwave was diplomacy that much he already knew, so the fourth brother must be the scientist.

A ruling Quaterne then, Optronix mused for a klik. Unheard of, but apparently working seamlessly. If the Seekers of Vos made it work with three, then why not four? It has always been just the question of loyalty amongst the leaders that made most kingdoms ruled by only one king; what the Seekers solved with their Trine bonds, the Kaonites did with the brother-bonds.

 

“It is. And with Iacon standing behind us, we can and will conquer all else.”

A simple statement, said so confidently and ordinarily that it nearly belied its content. But Megatron had results backing up his confidence and the mechs who could make it all work. Even the prospect of it made Optronix feel inadequate. No surprise that the warlord’s brothers considered him unfit for being the possible carrier of his heirs… who might one day rule Cybertron. 

“I-I’m sure… if anymech could it is you, my Lords.”

“Will we be able to do it with having some excess baggage that we will have to _defend_ and _pamper_ is questionable” – Dreadnought chose this klik to interject another round of insults. Apparently the praise did nothing to assuage his contempt.

“I can defend myself, Lord Dreadnought… and I don’t require any pampering.”

“Words, words, words… Iaconians seem to believe that words are always enough to save you. Anyone points a bat’leth at you and you quake in your armor.”

Megatron laughed short and dangerously – “I, too doubt that, brother.”

“So he swayed you too with his oily words!”

“Careful, Dread…”

“Just look at him! He couldn’t even lift one! A weakling with smooth words and enticing wiles!”

“I’m willing to put my words to the test.” – Optronix was done with letting the mech insult him. His words caused a ringing silence in the room, Dreadnought gaping with surprise, while Megatron scowling unhappily, the bond conveying worry for him. But he spoke up first before his brother could recover.

“I can’t allow you to spar with my brother.” – he paused, weighing his next words carefully – “But he may watch as we do.”

“It is acceptable.” – inwardly Optronix felt elation, especially considering what Soundwave said last time. He would lose the match for sure, but even so, he could show off his skills. 

“Right now?” – Dreadnought appeared gloating once he recovered from his surprise, like he was sure that Optronix would fail spectacularly in the sparring ring.

“Why not?” – Optronix smiled slightly, done with fear for now, his own daring and Megatron’s continued support making him sure that what he was doing was right and proper… and that they were putting Dreadnought’s derisive hatred to a rest soon.

They all stood and moved into the training room, where Megatron turned to his brother again, this time his smirk clearly visible.

“I haven’t intended to do it yet, but… you know brother that bat’leths come in many sizes, right?”

He lifted a longish parcel from one of the side tables, ripped the covering off and presented the weapon to Optronix wordlessly. The bat’leth was crafted to his size and grip, its midnight black metal gleaming in the lights, the handles subtly decorated with red and blue, signifying it as Optronix’s. The young mech stared at the beautiful weapon before realizing that it was for him… and gave a swift thanks to Primus that it was one of those he’d actually trained with before. 

“Thank you my Lord… Megatron.” – he whispered before he lifted the long, curved weapon from his bonded’s larger servos.

It felt perfect, from the weight of it till the hilt’s silky feel of wood, the organic material nearly caressing his metallic palm as it nestled into his grip. Optronix swung the blade experimentally, keeping a strong grip on the handles. Beginners with the bat’leth often underestimated the momentum of the comparatively heavy blade swung and let it fly disgracefully from their servos. The susurrating sound of the blade’s points strengthened as he sped it up, whirling it around him in a defensive pattern, before slowing down and bringing the deadly weapon to a proper neutral position.

He looked up and was greeted by an immensely satisfied look from Megatron and a slightly wide-opticked look of disbelief from Dreadnought. Optronix preened slightly in their admiration, letting a true smile broke his countenance. 

“It is a marvelous piece. Thank you, my Lord.”

“You’ll do fine with it.” – Megatron answered proudly and appraisingly before lifting his own, larger, black and red coloured bat’leth form a stand – “We will do a real match to convince my brother there that you are indeed worthy. Prepare yourself, Optronix for I’ll give you no advantages.”

They moved to one of the sparring rings, facing each other from its two sides, bowing slightly in honoring the opponent. Megatron looked supremely dangerous with the weapon in his servos, red optics calculating as he was looked over and assessed for potential weak points. Optronix did the same with him, just as he was taught… only he couldn’t find any weak, indeed just any slightly weaker point on his opponent.

Slag, but he moved fast for such a big mech… Optronix could hardly avoid the blade that nearly severed his ankle with a swift pirouette that moved him to Megatron’s side and gave him an opportunity to try a counterattack. His bat’leth was deflected by the longer blade and Optronix twisted his to catch the inner point. He managed to snag it, but the position gave him no advantage as the weapon stood firm in Megatron’s servo; against his greater strength Optronix couldn’t move it by a single millimeter.

At least he couldn’t swing it the other way, Optronix thought as he pushed them apart to have space. A few light exchanges had the weapons slid on each other’s edges, attacks and defensive moves flowing into an undulating rhythm as they measured up the other’s style. Optronix was using the darting, weaving style Jazz taught him to use against larger opponents, moving his bat’leth continuously, switching attack patterns often to stay unpredictable. 

Megatron was obviously not going all out, but his greater experience - not to mention his strength and reach – started to come out soon and Optronix was hard put to retain his grip of his weapon as the attacks steadily grew in complexity and ferocity. His own movements became ragged as more and more often Megatron disrupted his planned moves and he had to compensate and stay defensive. Even that became haphazard soon as Megatron advanced to yet another level, clearly showing just how much he was holding back so far.

When the advancing bat’leth hit his right wrist joint with the blunt edge and the temporarily numb digits made him lose his grip, Optronix knew that it would be over in kliks. But he didn’t give up, tried to twist out of reach, bringing up his weapon to deflect one-servoed. But it was too little and he felt the inexorable force of the entwined points tearing the other hilt too from his servo, leaving him defenseless. 

The bat’leth clanged on the ground as it fell and Optronix’s chest plates were hit with fortunately just the blunt edge of Megatron’s weapon, the strong hit making him loose his balance and fall backwards. He hit the mat heavily, unable to roll away as Megatron was on him fast and pinned him down. The exhilaration of the fight was dissipating fast and panic starting to take its place, their position all too suggestive for his memories to stay in the background.

But before he could fully fall into panic, he felt the pinning weight disappear over him and a strong servo grasping his own, pulling him up. Optronix’s vision cleared up and he vented fast, both to cool his heated frame and to calm his upset processor down. Megatron held him close for nearly a breem, but not so tightly as to be restrictive, rather offering his hold as support for his taxed, slightly trembling legs.

Optronix regained his equilibrium soon and found that surprisingly he didn’t mind the closeness and the hold when it was offered and not forced. He glanced up to Megatron’s slightly flushed face, his unfathomable optics… and he wasn’t afraid any more. The pride and approval that came through the bond also made him confident again, ready to trust him by this time. 

“You did well, Optronix.” – he said in a low voice – “No matter what Dreadnought will say about you… there aren’t many who can beat me in one-on-one combat. Well, aside from him.”

“I know… I didn’t expect to win. Just tried to.” – Optronix gave him a surprisingly conniving smirk and was rewarded with an honest laugh from the larger mech. 

“I concede that he knows how to swing a bat’leth…” – they heard Dreadnought’s grumbling voice from the sidelines – “…doesn’t mean he is capable, just that he is not a complete failure.”

Megatron smirked at his grumbling brother but didn’t answer. He was too busy to feel the beautiful Iaconian in his arms without the usual spikes of fear in his field. It gave him hope that they might still make this bond real. And he enjoyed it too.


	9. Dreams

Dreams

Optronix wandered into the training room, although he didn’t expect Megatron for some time yet. They didn’t exactly had a schedule and the Iaconian sometimes thought that the warlord wanted to stay with him all the time and only left him alone because he knew that it would be uncomfortable to both of them. He walked over the big room, his digits lightly touching the instruments of war displayed along the walls, sliding along dangerously gleaming, razor-sharp edges and bumping over inlaid gems on various hilts. 

It fascinated Optronix, this utter preoccupation of the whole society with war and fighting. Kaon seemed to be the embodiment of a warrior spirit and Megatron the very spark of that particular mindset. True, he has seen very little of the whole city-state but he didn’t think that what he’s seen so far was just a show-case set for him alone; it wouldn’t make any sense to try and impress a lone Iaconian locked up in the palace anyway. Jazz confirmed it to him too at their last conversation, saying that Kaonites were exactly like that; warlike, rough and disdaining any softer pastimes, their lives revolving around war and glory. 

It was… or it should have been very foreign to Optronix, who was raised to be a mate for one of the more _civilized_ kingdoms, like Polyhex or Praxus, only fate deciding suddenly that he should be a game piece in the previously closed off and secretive kingdom of Kaon. It was a shock back then and it continued to be so even at this orn, even after he was hopefully past the hardest part. The hard glint of the weapons blinked back at him, their glares a bit disdaining, like the way Kaonites inevitably watched him, the soft-spoken, soft-mannered, soft in the spark Iaconian. They would do the same, Optronix knew if he was to walk out and around in the palace grounds, much more so in the streets of Kaon.

But he was yearning to walk those streets, to observe the Kaonites – his fellow mechs now - in their natural surroundings, how they lived, how they worked, how they… loved. He did the same in Iacon, against the direct orders of his creator and the guards set to keep him in the palace. He always had to see matters for real, as he was never satisfied with learning them second-servo, through others’ viewpoints, prejudices, misconceptions. He wanted to see these warriors from up close, not only in a training room or a battlefield, but when they were whetting their weapons in their homes, teaching their creations the notions of honour and war…

“You seem pensive, Optronix.”

The deep bass voice surprised him badly and Optronix whirled to face Megatron who was approaching him from behind. He tensed up as he found the warlord way too close and it only marginally calmed him down that he’s backed off quickly after seeing his reaction. 

“I was wondering about Kaon and its mechs.” – he answered at last, settling at the topic that was hopefully _safe_ – “I’d love to see them… I understand that I can’t but I wish it to come true still.”

Megatron actually looked frustrated… no, it was helpless almost at that.

“Optronix… You can’t. Not yet. I promised it to you, and it will happen… but later.”

Optronix nodded sadly, but swallowed back the disappointment, arranging his features to a neutral expression. He moved closer, not quite to touching distance but close enough to signal his acceptance.

“I understand… I may not like it, but I get the reasoning.”

“Until that time, I can tell you everything you wish to hear about. I’m sure you have plenty of questions… you seem to be eager to understand us, even if you can’t accept our way of life.”

“But I’d like to! I mean become a warrior like you… it is not against my natural instincts. True, I’d like to understand how Kaon works, but it isn’t just a mental exercise… Kaon is my home now.”

Pride filled Megatron hearing that utterance, delivered in a serious tone. Dreadnought should have heard it, he thought, maybe it would lighten his enmity a bit. 

“Come then, Optronix… I have a little surprise for you too.”

The young mech looked up at him interested and Megatron couldn’t help but be glad that he trusted him enough not to be afraid of a surprise. It surely was a step forward!

In the sitting room doorway, he gestured Optronix forward and the smaller mech noticed the change immediately. His rooms were at this time by no means bare, but there were still plenty of free spaces – and one of them, a sizable one by one wall was now occupied by a miniature crystal garden. 

“Ohhh…” – Optronix couldn’t help but sigh happily. It was small off course, but the crystalline growths in it so perfect, so graceful that he thought that he’s never seen more beautiful. Iacon had several such gardens but it was an entirely different sight and feel to walk among and often under the huge crystals – or observe them in front of him, like a miniature cityscape. And they were some of the rarest crystals on the planet, Optronix saw after the first, awed glance. Some of them, he couldn’t even recognize. 

“It’s amazing…”

“I’m glad that you like it. Later, you can see the palace gardens but until that time… I wished to show how much I value you… how much I’ love… no… I mean I want to court you and win you again!” 

Well slag. That came out incredibly lame, no matter how much he practiced beforehand. Megatron felt like an utter fool and such feelings made him inevitably angry. Pushing back the rising anger, glanced at the wide-opticked young mech, sighed and tried to save the situation.

“I’m not really good at this courting thing…”

“My Lord… Megatron…” – Optronix, despite of everything wanted to laugh, knowing that it would definitely be a bad idea – “I thank you… and… If I have understood you correctly, then… you mean we should start again?”

The young mech cautiously nudged the bond, trying to get the feel of the warlord. What came through was a mixture of embarrassment, suppressed anger and an underlying frustration. He tried to answer, pushing through his acceptance and encouragement, but he wasn’t sure whether Megatron actually felt it. The connection was still barely more than a trickle.

“Something like that… it was Soundwave’s idea!”

“I like this idea, actually.” – and why would he not? It gave him a field where Megatron wasn’t unreachably ahead of him, like in training or fighting, experience and whatnot. It gave him a slight satisfaction to see Megatron uncomfortable and flustered, now that he knew that neither was going to be turned against him. He felt a little ashamed for the gloating, but then, he was entitled for a little of it after all he’d gone through n the mech’s servos. 

“I’ll endeavour then to satisfy your wish.” – he wasn’t growling. But it was a near thing.

“Of course, I’d be happy to see the Kaonite way of courting.” – Optronix was still careful not to push too far. It was a good idea, because Megatron visibly perked up a bit and flashed that little, predatory smile that made something flutter in Optronix’s tank and his field shuddered.

“Gladly. Sparring is one, I’m sure you know it by now.”

“I guessed as much.” – Optronix answered with a playful smile. – “It is the kind of courting I came to enjoy.”

“That’s good because it’s the only type I’m comfortable with.”

Megatron uttered the sentence without meaning to, thinking that he only said it within his processor… but the glittering laugh that bubbled out of Optronix’s vocalizer made him realize that he has actually spoken it aloud. – Uhhh…”

“No, please…! It’s fine, really!” – Optronix tried to get his mirth under control, seeing as Megatron wavered between mortally embarrassed and seething angry – “I mean I’m pleased by any effort you make… truly! Like this crystal garden… it is so beautiful and amazing!”

“We have fewer courting gifts compared to your former home… weapons and crystals are the acceptable ones. It wouldn’t be proper to give baubles or sweets, because that degrades the courted mech and we don’t wear clothing like some kingdoms do.”

“Ohhh… I see. We don’t wear such either, although a few young mechs have tried to make it fashionable a few vorns ago, if I remember well. But I think they look silly.”

“Definitely. Cloth or mesh fabric over armour? I never saw the point of it and they tear ridiculously easily.”

Optronix laughed again, agreeing and Megatron was relived that they steered away from the embarrassing topics. He didn’t take this hurdle well, but Optronix didn’t seem to mind much – and he definitely loved the crystal garden. Megatron cautiously shifted closer to the red and blue mech under the pretense of pointing out a particularly rare formation, a deep purplish stone that came from offworld, but gained popularity in Kaon quickly, due to its particular shade. Optronix listened eagerly to its story, but Megatron noticed that his field started to fluctuate the more he stayed close and the bond conveyed unease too. 

It seemed that Optronix was still afraid of him from up close, no matter their improving relationship otherwise. He was warned to it by Soundwave and the warlord drew away as unobtrusively as he got closer. Offering a cube of high-grade was a good pretense and as he put a mechanometer between them, Optronix’s good mood became natural, honest again, the uneasiness dissipating from the bond.

They talked long over the small crystal garden, comparing growths from different places they knew and visited – and Optronix seemed to feel a bit sad that so many of those he’d not see ever. Due to his youth, the smaller mech has been taken for a visit only to a few city-states yet and very much hoped for more later – but the arranged bond crossed through those plans too, firmly imprisoning… getting him stuck in Kaon.

“Later, Optronix. Later. I can’t suddenly change the way things are done in Kaon, but I do what I can. I promised.”

“Yes… yes, I know. Thank you.”

“I think I took over your time enough for this orn… I’ll leave now. Have a good night cycle!”

“Thank you… Megatron.”

The smile was small and a bit sad… but it was there and that encouraged Megatron. He was making headway and slow as it was, it was still progress. Now… if only he could bypass it all and jump forward in time to where he was having a loving mate and heirs… too bad that things didn’t work that way. But then Megatron was familiar with making a long, patient effort to achieve a goal in a war. He should be able to do the same in his mate’s rooms too. Glancing back to Optronix sitting down on his berth, he sighed and left the room. To join him there again… would be far-far too long in the future.

 

-o-o-o-

Optronix sank into the kiss breathless, loosing himself in the deep, sensual licks of the hot glossa on his lips, stroking inward, sharp denta nibbling on his lipplates that shuddered under the pleasant assault. He moaned, or thought that he moaned deeply in the strong arms encircling him, nearly suffocating in their protective, almost possessive embrace. He felt hot inwardly, a core-deep charge rising in his systems and his vents opened fully to expel the hot air – only it was hot on the outside too, the huge frame surrounding him in a way that was nearly impossible, strong arms encircling his frame, gentle but strong servos sliding on plates, dipping into seams, plucking sensitive wires, raising his temperature ever higher…

A servo rubbed gently but insistently on his scorching hot panel behind which lubricant was collecting in slick, hot drops, oozing out through the seams, onto the plating, where the oh-so-knowledgeable servos played with them by smearing the purple droplets onto themselves. The lubricant-soaked digits delved into the panel’s seam, and Optronix was unable to keep it closed any more, even if he’d wanted to. Which he didn’t. The young mech bowed off the large berth, the frame above him lifting along with his movement, never for a nanoklik stopping its maddening tease, its roaming on his tingling plating. 

The bared valve was touched by a single digit gently, like a priest would touch a sacred relic of Primus and Optronix moaned again, the wordless, mindless sound only half muffled by the talented glossa that occupied his mouth, writhing under the sensations. The silver digit dipped slightly, the slick purple of the lubricant just connecting its gleaming metallic skin to the trembling platelets at his entrance. Time stopped for an eternally long nanoklik before it gently parted the silvery platelets and dipped in shallowly, smearing the lubricant around carefully. 

The glossa in his mouth trembled in its enforced holding back, the big mech nearly shaking with the effort for not to be rough, not to be forceful or too fast. Optronix sucked desperately on the glossa, his moans continuous, his frame trying to push into the servo that held just on the edge of giving him pleasure. His own servos clamped onto the vast back plates, drawing the hesitant frame closer, encouraging him, reassuring him of his willingness and the approval of the other’s care. 

The digit pushed in deeper, pausing and withdrawing slightly every now and then. The thumb played with the anterior node, the big mech swallowing the pleasured little moans and whimpers that his touch caused. There was no fear in the smaller mech’s field, no terror or rejection and the bond stayed open, honest and conveying the same; pleasure, wanting and accepting. Megatron added another digit, slowly, patiently stretching the tight little valve before he could enter it. His kiss was neverending, deep and sensual in a way Optronix never imagined the warlord to be, not even in his wildest hopes at the very beginning, before the cold and brutal awakening to the realities. 

Optronix lost the thread of thought in that kiss, in the slow, incredibly hot feel of the digits moving around in his valve. He literally never felt anything like this and his occasional, long gone wet dreams too fell far short of the real sensations. His valve was lubricating copiously now with the stimulus, the walls thoroughly soaked and stretching nicely, anticipating, by this time even eagerly awaiting for his bigger mate’s spike to take the place of the digits and fill him up with mind-boggling pleasure. The digits slid out the last time, the thumb pressing playfully on the anterior node in a farewell, promising even better things to come.

Optronix relaxed his inner cables, spreading his legs a bit further in invitation. The large frame above him lifted slightly, a breath of colder air between their scorching hot plating making them shiver slightly in cold and in anticipation. Pleasure-hazed optics cleared up and smoldering red connected with aquamarine as he felt the hot, engorged spike slowly push in, stretching the soaked, flexible walls to their limit. Instead of pain, the sensors registered pleasure only as the walls fulfilled their function and admitted the intruder without the burn, the tears, the pain and the last vestiges of the hidden fear melted away completely. The slow, inexorable but gentle slide inwards fired the sensors up one by one with indescribable pleasure. 

Optronix keened low and the frame above him stilled, the oh-so-pleasurable stretch stopped and the field against his own flared up with worry. He collected his processor enough to push through the bond a single thought - _don’t you dare to stop now!_ – and bowed upwards, pushing his hips towards the delicious intruder, the welcome enemy, the spike that was making him feel so good. A wry, nearly humorous thread of emotion came back without words and he felt the spike push in fully, knocking on his ceiling node.

Optronix shattered with a scream that noone could take for painful. If not for the encircling arms, he would have fallen back onto the berth padding, spent and sated – but it wasn’t over yet. Fully seated his spike, the warlord paused, riding out his mate’s overload, watching his reaction with a nearly awed wonder. His servos caressed the hot plating, dancing in seams, raising his charge again, giving him what should have always been given; care and pleasure, reverberating in their bond, giving him a taste of the young and innocent lust, feeding his own.

His own charge was secondary now, but the tight little valve undulating around him in climax very nearly pushed Megatron too into an overload. But he could control himself more than that. As soon as Optronix was regaining some control of his faculties he started to move, slide out and thrust back, gently at first, then emboldened by the enthusiastic reaction faster, stronger, more forcefully – but always, always mindful not to hurt his smaller mate. Had he botched this up in the slightest, Megatron thought, he’d never get another chance. 

But it didn’t feel like Optronix was in any sort of pain or discomfort. The small mech was moaning deeply into his mouth, sucking and licking his glossa mindlessly, his valve tightening again around him, the delicious friction making them both hiss in the added sensation. Their charge growing, Megatron’s thrusts sped up and he was nearly pushing the smaller frame upwards on the berth with his strength, if not for the clamping arms around him that nearly fused Optronix to his plating.

“Ohhhh… y-yessss…. Megat…thron…” the younger mech chanted, panting with the thrusts and moaning when he pulled out. – “M-more… yessss… harderrrr…”

Megatron complied. There was no need for caution by this time, no chance of him to harm Optronix in any way or form. He growled low, his charge rising inexorably, threatening to overwhelm him, weakening his arms that held him up above the smaller mech, moaning and keening in pleasure. His hips snapped forward once… twice… and the third, forceful thrust broke the barrier for both of them. A higher and a deeper yell entwined in the silence of the room, signalling their release and the rush of transfluid jetting in the welcoming valve. They sank onto the berth together, processors hazed with pleasure, the barest threads of rational thought keeping the warlord from squashing the deeply offline Optronix.

-o-o-o-

Optronix’s optic shutters snapped open. He was panting heavily still, his frame blazing hot, condensation dripping from underneath some plates, vents roaring to cool down his squirming, tingly and sated frame. His panel felt like a furnace where some mech left the fire burning well after the duty shift of the smelter ended but the burn wasn’t painful this time. His plating tingled as it cooled slowly and with the memories of the tracks that talented digits drew on them. His glossa sneaked out, wetting dry lipplates that felt like gnawed on and kissed into the next orn. 

But no mech was around, he had no company in the berth or in the room either. No transfluid dripped from his valve only the lubricant smeared and dried slowly on his hot thighs. Optronix was completely befuddled for a full breem before reality started to make sense and unease made his plating tremble and shake a little. Apparently his subconscious wasn’t as much afraid of Megatron as his processor, if it presented him with dreams like this latest one. 

The young mech admitted in the privacy of his helm that he did indeed long for his mate – even as he was dreading him to come too close, to hold him down, to hurt him again… it wasn’t easy to face either the fear or the desire. They confused him. Optronix curled up on the berth, dispelling the charge of the dream, cooling his pleasure-heated frame with calmer thoughts. Yes, he used to find Megatron appealing, exciting, powerful and above all exotic. He’d been looking forward to feel what the larger mech could give him in the bond – and in the berth.

But brutal reality cooled down his dreams completely, deleted the tiny saplings of his awakening desires and infused him with a strut-deep fear of interfacing. Or so he thought consciously. But the dreams cared not a whit of his fears, his learned reflexes and the manifestations of his hurts. Apparently they still found Megatron desirable – and capable of giving him true pleasure. A tentative blue servo lifted off the berth, to dip into his own lubricant. It was real, not a dream. It proved that his frame was believing his subconscious. 

Optronix wanted to feel true pleasure. He was hurt too much, he’s suffered so badly, that in reality, it should have eradicated all dreams or wishes of interfacing ever be pleasurable again. But against all odds, despite of every reason not to – he still yearned to experience… love and its manifestations on his frame. With Megatron seemingly changed and making a real-looking effort, these yearnings blazed into life again, making him experience increasingly hot dreams. Soon, Optronix knew they’d manifest in their real interactions too. 

He wasn’t sure of that yet. 

He got up and escaped to the washracks before Avara would come and see the telltale signs of his arousal. Under the pattering hot solvent, he rubbed down the dried lubricant from his plating, thinking furiously. Megatron would notice something soon – if he hadn’t yet. Optronix didn’t fool himself into believing that he wasn’t observed in his rooms and even if that surveillance didn’t include the berthroom, he’d betray himself somehow soon. Probably during their training, he thought wryly, with a slight smile on his lipplates - the way they touched there under the pretense of grappling was sometimes hotter than any berth-play he imagined. 

It was nearly a breem before the young mech realized that his servos turned from rubbing industriously to petting himself sensually, unconsciously following the pattern of Megatron’s servos on his plating in the dream. Frustrated, the young mech growled, the sound quite unlike him, but signifying his conflicting thoughts well; and grabbed a brush to attack his traitorous armor with. 

The servant came in soon after that to help him finish cleaning up, followed by a cable massage and a careful polish from helm to pedes. Optronix luxuriated in the pleasant feelings, carefully suppressing any urges to perceive it as more… sensuous. He wasn’t untouched any more to fantasize about interface and imagine a lover’s touch in the servant’s professional massage. Nope. No way. What he wanted was not Avara’s light touch, but a much bigger servo… slag. There he was again. Optronix flinched slightly and the smaller mech worriedly asked if he was all right, he hasn’t hurt him inadvertently…

“N-no, everything is fine, Avara.” – he stammered a little but hoped that it wasn’t suspicious – “I just… I had an unsettling dream.”

 _Unsettling, my aft_ … Optronix flushed pink and was glad that he lay facedown so hopefully it wasn’t noticeable. He was a bad liar because he hated lying to anyone and Jazz has always told him not to bother with it, because he’d always be caught. Calling a hot interfacing dream with Megaton unsettling wasn’t exactly a lie, he reasoned within his meta, because it did trouble him afterwards. Mainly because he wanted it to be real… but he was afraid of it at the same time. 

“Recharge fluxes sometimes do that.” – Avara’s knowing voice caused him to blush again – “But they can also be enjoyed for what they are: just dreams.”

Optronix lifted an orbital ridge at the answer that showed that either Avara was telepathic – which was highly unlikely – or he’d accidentally answered exactly what he wanted to hear. He did enjoy the dream, the lack of fear, the unashamed enjoyment that care and love caused in him. The young mech also knew that in reality he wouldn’t be able to react so openly and trusting. Not yet. 

And he hoped that it wasn’t _not ever_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think it might come across as a bit strange that Optronix dreams such an obviously wet dream with Megatron. I want to stress that it is his subconscious, that he is a young mech eager to have pleasure, indeed just pleasurable touches... and he can't imagine any other mech for that, as he doesn't know any other mechs whom he would desire in that way. So his dreams and his awake thoughts on the matter are drastically different, conflicting.


	10. Incognito

“Megatron… Lord Soundwave.”

Optronix nodded to his visitors, glad that the dark blue mech came again. He still felt positively hungry for company beside Megatron’s even though he understood why he couldn’t yet have visitors. He was even more surprised that after the two large frames, another mech came forward, smaller than the Kaonites, sporting sandy yellow colour and smiling politely, if a bit insincere. Megatron looked smugly pleased, while Soundwave politely introduced the newcomer:

“Ambassador Swindle, from Tarn.”

“It is an honour to meet you Ambassador…” – Optronix’s voice trailed away unsure, as he was a tiny bit puzzled to be introduced to one foreigner while not others that surely came around over the vorns.

“The Ambassador agreed to cooperate with us for a little subterfuge…” – Soundwave started to explain, not mentioning the exorbitant price-tag the so-called ‘ _ambassador_ ’ asked for his services. It was inconsequential in the greater picture of things anyway.

“What, a kind of a… plot?”

Optronix asked Soundwave but his optics were on Megatron, trying to find out what they were up to. The Ambassador, as it were didn’t awaken any sympathy or trust in him – he looked more like a smarmy salesmech than a diplomat. But of course the two could overlap, he reminded himself about some of the foreign ambassadors in the Iacon palace. Very few of those he’d’ve entrusted an ambassadorial post either. 

“It is a way for you, Optronix, to visit the town in secret. The Ambassador agreed to stay in your quarters while you and Soundwave can go out a bit and have a look around.”

Megatron sounded so eager, so… giddy that he could give something that Optronix missed so much… that the smaller mech couldn’t help but be happy either. Of course the prospect of escaping from his rooms was a heady thought too and to see Kaon with his own optics after so much time was much welcome, so Optronix’s smile widened in happiness and barely kept himself from further, more impolite displays of his joy. But a detail suddenly made him look up.

“Can’t you… come too?”

He didn’t miss the happy flash in the warlord’s optics and the interested raise of a brow-plate from Soundwave. Red and blue glances connected and for a klik they both felt something warm and fuzzy that wasn’t there before, trickling through the bond. Trust, happiness… maybe love? It was a huge leap that not only Optronix didn’t shy away from him but actually wanted him around. Too bad that he couldn’t…

“We can disguise you as the ambassador, but I’m afraid there is no mech in Kaon who wouldn’t recognize me.”

“Ohh…” – he felt sorry for a few kliks, breaking the optic contact, but understood the necessity. – “It is unfortunate. But I’m sure in time that can happen too.”

“Indeed it will. For now, you should enjoy the excursion.”

Soundwave waved Avara over who attached a small device to his shoulder plates, activated it… and the colour matching ambassador Swindle’s golden tan and purple washed over his plating from the little holoprojector. His helm was different still, but Soundwave assured him that most Kaonites wouldn’t look twice if they saw him with a foreigner; his work as Kaon’s diplomat was well-known. Still, he folded in the distinctive antennae, not much caring about the loss of some inconsequential sensory data. 

“Ambassadors have a declared immunity, but still it would be wise not to provoke any fight or disagreements.” – Megatron was serious before they left the rooms, nervous and apprehensive, even though the whole thing was his idea – “I know that you are not one instigating fights, but I can’t be there to protect you, should anything happen.”

“Brother… I’ll be there, you know?” – Soundwave sounded exasperated and Optronix’s lip components twitched in a suppressed smile. He really enjoyed the brothers teasing each other, although he knew that they wouldn’t call it that. But the glance the blue mech cast at him was almost a wink… – “Few would dare to challenge me either.”

“I promise not to cause any disturbances.” – Optronix was serious. He was not going to loose his privilege of being allowed outside after so long for anything.

Megatron nodded and they left the quarters, leaving ambassador Swindle with Avara, the servant as much serving him as observing so that he wouldn’t mess with Optronix’s things. Not even Megatron fooled himself that the slimy-mannered _ambassador_ was completely trustworthy.

But Optronix forget him as soon as they stepped out of the palace and Soundwave’s two younglings joined them, introducing themselves as Frenzy and Rumble. The guards were around but keeping so much to the background that Optronix in time managed to forget that they were there and enjoy the excursion. They were engaging in a pleasant, light and superficial conversation but it was obvious that Soundwave gave him as much freedom and permission to enjoy the sights as possible.

The blue mech pointed out the landmarks near the palace, the dark and sinister Temple for Unicron, the Old Castle, maintained as historical memento, the Midnight Gardens with the special, moonlight-grown crystals, and the main square of the town, giving the choice for Optronix to decide where to go. He wasn’t surprised when the young mech enthusiastically choose the marketplace, rather cutely apologizing when he thought that Soundwave’d be insulted if he didn’t check out the main attractions.

“Optronix, I don’t expect you to conform to me or any other mech now. This little walk is for you. If you want to see the mechs of Kaon, it is no less in any way than wanting to see grand structures.” 

“I understand… I’m interested in those too, just first the mechs who live here.”

“It is a commendable wish, Optronix.”

“My Sire has always said that I’m far too much interested in the lives of our subjects. He didn’t approve of me going out of the palace and mingle with the simple mechs of Iacon.”

Soundwave looked at Optronix sympathetically. He knew just how a stickler to rules and etiquette Ultra Magnus was and wouldn’t have wished it on any of his own creations.

“We think differently then. A good leader, be it a councilmech, a noble or a king, must know how his subjects live. A certain amount of safety must be present…” – he waved behind them where the guards followed them unobtrusively – “especially in Kaon, but we all spent a lot of our childhood on the streets and public training fields, playing with, as you say, the simple mechs of the city.”

“Exactly! I could never agree with Sire in this.”

They walked around in the rather scantily populated market streets, Optronix occasionally asking and Soundwave explaining things. The two cassettes tried to liven up their sedate walk and the ambassador had to reprimand them a few times, but Optronix enjoyed the attempts for humor and mischief… the smaller mechs reminded him of Jazz and Hot Rod, the two troublemaking rascals of the royal family. He tried hard not to let that memory darken his mood, after all he did talk with them many times since he could.

Kaon was… interesting, he thought. Superficially, the market looked the same as in Iacon, a busy, lively and crowded place. But when he got closer, he saw the differences too. Obviously everything was in a scale that started to exasperate him, not only the Kaonites themselves who looked over his helm and disregarded him completely; but the sheer size of the stalls, the seating in the small energon bars in the corners and not to forget the detailing shop he just passed with the huge machines that looked more like torture devices than for cleaning and detailing…

The stalls had a different ware in general too. Far more weapons, which he found natural by this time, far less decorative items, except for the crystals which were in abundance, and even the games and puzzles that he saw were of a strategic variety, whereas in Iacon it was hard to find a game that wasn’t about economy or politics. The toys for sparklings also showed similar leanings; toy weapons and war-games. 

Optronix also noted that he was the only non-Kaonite around, and studiously being ignored as a foreigner. In Iacon, at any time of the vorn there were hundreds if not thousands of visitors, merchants and diplomats, exchange students or distant relatives, artists and even tourists in the town. They weren’t ignored either; a good number of his fellow countrymechs… well former countrymechs, lived well from giving lodging, catering and programs for off-city visitors. 

Here, it looked like an occasional foreign mech like himself was considered as the necessary evil they had to put up with. Some of the vendors were downright rude and while Soundwave has always put them to their places, they never became friendly even when he bought something. Not that he needed anything in particular but Kaonites appeared to have a very particular but truly beautiful crystal carving technique that he loved. 

-o-o-o-

Megatron paced up and down in his quarters like a caged cyberwolf. He was nervous, frustrated, impatient and wanted to call Soundwave about ten times in every breem, just stopping himself from making the call. His brother would call him had anything happened with Optronix. He knew that. It didn’t help his anxiousness. At the end of yet another circle, he threw himself down on a recliner, grabbing a cube of high grade instead of further fretting. 

He froze into a statue as suddenly he realized why he was fretting and nervous - because he cared. About Optronix. Soundwave warned him that he’d have to face with his feelings for the Iaconian soon… and now was as good a time as any. Somewhere during the last several orns he came to… yes, he came to truly enjoy the young mech’s presence, his company and his still-cautious nudges in the bond. Something he never believed to be possible. 

Optronix was still shy, extroverted and nervous when he got too close, but otherwise open, honest and eager to learn and change, mold himself into a Kaonite… and let Megatron do much of that molding. He drank the warlord’s various tales and explanations, and asked meaningful, sharp and intelligent questions. He was also gorgeous, sensual without even trying and exotic, heating up Megatron’s frame every time they sparred and the younger mech let him close. Was it all love… Megatron still had no idea.

He loved his brother, albeit he’d never, ever say that aloud, but it was a familial bond. He lusted for some pleasurebots who possessed luscious frames, but that was impersonal, just another urge to satisfy. He was naturally drawn to special frame-types, like fliers, but not even that felt this deep. No, he thought what he felt towards Optronix had all those elements… and something more that he couldn’t even describe. It had to be love, he thought wryly, he was told many times that it was an indescribable feeling, just like his own towards Optronix. 

“Brother?” – the much awaited comm roused him from his musings – “We’re back and absolutely nothing out of ordinary happened.”

“I’ll be right there, Soundwave. And… thanks.”

The shiningly grateful and happy look on Optronix’s faceplates, once he was there firmly decided that however dangerous the subterfuge was, they’d have to let him do it again. The young mech nearly glowed with contented happiness and Megatron eagerly drank in the rarely seen sight, not even noticing how he fell ever deeper into the love he still couldn’t identify. Soundwave and Swindle left them alone, the telepath knowing that it was for the best if Megatron reaped the fruits of his labor, that it would work wonders for their relationship.

Optronix eagerly talked about what he’s seen for joors and Megatron didn’t mind hearing about the city he knew so well, from the lips he was so much yearning to touch. They discussed his experiences, compared Kaon to Iacon, had a good-natured argument about the theory and practice of rearing a youngling… and agreed at the end of that that neither of them was fully satisfied with the way they were raised, and had they got the opportunity, they’d do a better job.

They fell to silence after that agreement. Megatron, because he remembered the sparkling with deep regret, Optronix, because he was sensitive and picked up his mood, even though he didn’t know the reason. But he knew better than to ask. Megatron, he knew by this time was not going to hurt him, whatever he asked – but he would get all cranky and still wouldn’t say anything. He could be patient and wait until the warlord was ready to tell whatever it was.

-o-o-o-

Between the training and the covert excursions Optronix’s boredom disappeared completely in the following groons. He got more and more comfortable with Megatron, even outside the sparring room. There were more of his dreams and the young mech caught himself more than once during a discussion that his glances to Megatron were sliding over the powerful frame appreciatively and he had to remind himself of their topic. During sparring it was even worse… or better, he wasn’t sure – but there at least he could blame the exercise for his overheated frame. 

There was even a memorable evening when they all, including Soundwave and his eldest cassette, Ravage got sloshed and the discussion deteriorated into jokes, laughing, and incredulous tales from various campaigns the three of them were part of. As he discovered, the ambassador was just as much a warrior as all Kaonites. When they disappeared, Optronix hasn’t even noticed in his overcharged mirth, only that after a while he was alone with Megatron, not afraid in the slightest and sitting nearly on his lap. They were still laughing at the last joke.

Then a sensuous stroke slid over his back plating absentmindedly, down till it cupped his aft… and then Megatron’s servo froze, before he swiftly snatched it away.

“I didn’t... mean that.”

Optronix swallowed the mouthful he just drank and reined in both a tremble and his lust.

“It wasn’t… bad.” – he said in a small voice.

Megatron sat like a statue, thoughts clearly warring in his processor. The bond swirled with worry, lust, care and frustration, like colourful flashes of lights chasing each other in a maelstrom.

“You are not ready.” – he answered in a choked voice.

Optronix couldn’t refute that statement, even though he would be half-willing to disprove it. He shook his helm mutely but didn’t draw away. Megatron had to feel his rising temperature and the desire in his field, in the bond… true, it was enflamed by the amount they both drank but some of it was his own, Optronix knew.

“I don’t want high-grade to decide instead of you.”

A cautious claw lifted his chin to have their optics connect. The other servo, Megatron tightened into a fist to keep his treacherous frame in check.

“Only when you are ready. I promised.”

“Thank you…” – Optronix could finally whisper his answer. – “I’m nearly… almost… but…”

“Shhhh… you’ll know. We’ll both know when.”

The servo petted his shoulder nearly chastely, although it took a lot of effort from the warlord to keep it that way, and drew away. 

“Sleep well, Optronix.”

That dark cycle was the first they both went to recharge equally unsatisfied, frustrated and dreamt similar dreams.

-o-o-o-

“Where is it you’d like to go Optronix?”

“Maybe into a tavern or something. I always hope that one orn some mech will talk to me and not just sneer.” – Optronix told it good-naturedly, but in fact he was frustrated that Kaonites generally ignored him as nonexistent. Even after their dozens of excursions he was still unsuccessful to really talk to mechs other than Megatron and his brothers.

“I must warn you that it is unlikely even in a tavern… but we should still go into one if you wish.” 

Soundwave judged the likelihood of it to virtually nil, but he knew several suitable establishments nearby; good enough for even nobles to go in but common enough not to be exclusive. Not quite taverns, but then he wouldn’t take Optronix into a real, brutal Kaonite common bar. The young Iaconian mech probably wouldn’t survive that experience unscathed, as natural pastimes among lower caste Kaonites regularly involved fighting and Megatron would have his helm for a desk-decoration if he got hurt.

The Steel Mill was a bit of a smallish side but Soundwave brought here many ambassadors and their entourages and so they at least were familiar with foreigners, not so rude as shopkeepers in general. It was typical in decoration for Kaon; darkly coloured walls with few lights and gleaming edges of weapons on the walls throwing those rays around. They sat at one of the smaller tables, the server immediately recognizing the Lord’s brother and scurried to take their orders. 

Once they got the cubes, Optronix started to have a good look around. Few mechs were in, since the day shifts usually were still at work and the night ones at home yet. But he noticed a group of four mechs in a nearby table, arguing heatedly in heavily accented, nearly unintelligible Kaonian and listened carefully what he could glean of the words. After a few breems of it, he turned to Soundwave with a wide-opticked look.

“They are talking about… poems, if I understood well? They do have a thick accent so I might be… wrong.”

Soundwave nodded, perfectly understanding the surprise. To anyone but a Kaonite, the group would look and sound like they were arguing and just one step away from brawling – whereas they were just discussing and comparing the newest rages that went around in the communinets.

“Songs, I believe, not poems.” – he corrected, listening in briefly to their conversation. – “And they are from northern Kaon, by their accents.”

“But… but they sound like they are going to… fight?”

“They probably won’t… not about such an inconsequential topic.” – Soundwave sampled their emotions briefly to make sure – “They might if it was about the sporting event coming up, but not over this.”

“You mean all the time I thought the vendors would want to bite my helm off… they were just their normal, grouchy, Kaonite selves?”

Soundwave nearly laughed out loud at the wry but observant question.

“Mostly yes, we do have a conduct that foreigners find rough and some even belligerent. But the vendors made it extra nasty, because you look like a stranger. They were more normal when they saw me being with you.”

They got to this point in their conversation when suddenly a huge shape loomed over their table and Optronix looked up in surprise, Soundwave following him in a klik.

“My, my… I can’t believe my optics.” – the voice was scratchy and shrill, unpleasant to the audials and spoke with a false unctuousness – “Who else is turning up in a bar than the mysterious and well-hidden mate of the Warlord… without him?”

Soundwave stood up at once and directed Optronix to do the same. He didn’t quite hid the smaller mech, as it would be insulting, but he was clearly in a position to defend him if needed. But when his optics took in the frame standing opposite to them, the telepath commed frantically to Megatron. The warlord didn’t answer, his comms pinging back with an unavailable note, meaning that he was probably with a pleasurebot, working out interfacing frustration from his systems. Soundwave swore inwardly.

“Lord Starscream…” – he had to bow to the Winglord, probably the only mech at the moment in Kaon who outranked him beside Megatron and being a valuable ally, he couldn’t risk a diplomatic scandal either. But the Seeker was sly and known to harbor secret plans. It wasn’t a chance meet, the telepath felt it without even trying to get a feel of the flier’s processor – “It is an honour to see you here, in a lowly tavern…”

“Stuff it, _Lord_ Soundwave.” – The slagging Seeker knew it too and sneered at him – “I spoke to Lord… I believe Optronic?”

He had to step aside or risk the Winglord challenging him. Soundwave considered sending the highest alert to his brother that would go through any comm firewall, but refrained from it yet. Optronix stood as tall as he could – not much between the rigidly standing Kaonite and the flared wings of the Vosian, but his best and answered politely.

“Lord Starscream. I believe we’ve met once.” – reminding the Winglord that he should know his designation correctly at least – “At the bonding party.”

“Oh yesss… the last time any mech saw you.” – The Seeker moved closer, towering over Optronix, who, to Soundwave’s surprise stood fast and hasn’t betrayed his uneasiness with a single twitch or trembling in his voice. - “He whisked you away before any mech could have made the ritual challenges.”

If Optronix was surprised, he didn’t show it. He stood determined and proud, facing up to the larger flier. He also deactivated the device on his shoulder, letting his normal colours show now that his incognito was broken anyway. Soundwave noted the mechs around starting to look over to them and commed to Dreadnought with an order to break their brother’s door if necessary and get them to the tavern at once. He also ordered their guard to clear the place from any witnesses fast.

“I am not aware that the bonding lacked any necessary part.”

“It was complete.” – the Seeker conceded, but smirked once more, raising Soundwave’s dread – “But still, some things cannot be denied.”

“No!”

“What, Soundwave, would you deny it?”

Optronix looked from one of them to the other, bemused. The Seeker’s unfamiliar faceplates were hard to read, but his tone was dangerous and his wings moved upwards a few notches. Soundwave was loosing his calm fast and frustration coloured his tone.

“What kind of rights you mean, Lord Starscream?” – he clearly perceived that Soundwave couldn’t act against the Seeker but he wasn’t sure why he would need to. Simply loosing his incognito surely wasn’t so serious… But gaining time seemed to be a good idea, the blue mech has surely commed Megatron already. 

“Why, my dear Soundwave, I should have expected you to enlighten this young mech fully…” – Starscream hissed – “If Lord Megatron hasn’t done it yet!”

“Lord Starscream, Lord Optronix, please… it is not the time or place…”

“There is no other time or place!”

“I’d really appreciate if someone enlightened me.”

“Very well, little mech… you bonded with Lord Megatron but hasn’t produced a sparkling in … well, too many vorns. His brothers have a right to help to contribute to the bloodline, you know? As Megatron himself named me his brother in arms, I too…”

“You have a right to shut your vocalizer NOW!” 

It wasn’t Megatron and Dreadnought lacked any sense of diplomacy that Soundwave possessed. But then on occasions brute force worked better with the Seeker than anything else.

“Lord Dreadnought? What a surprise to see you too here! I can’t believe four powerful Kaonite warriors couldn’t produce a single sparkling!”

But then, sometimes the Seeker did seem suicidal to Soundwave. To mortally insult four Kaonites, the whole ruling family in one sentence was something even from the wily flier. Dreadnought couldn’t even answer, he was spluttering so much, only Soundwave’s steel grip holding him back from attacking the slagging Winglord, who was expecting, no, inviting and taunting him to do so. 

What was he planning with such a blatant insult? He couldn’t hope to get away with it, not from Megatron once he got his slagging aft here. Soundwave silently ordered their entourage to empty the place or rather arrest every mech who was still present. They couldn’t afford the scandal to get public. On a second thought he ordered the palace guard to arrest Swindle too. There was no way Starscream found them by accident and recognized Optronix in the disguise without a hint from some mech.

He risked a glance to the young mech, lipplates slightly open, wide-opticked expression completely frozen in shock and sighed. Things were going so well… and now they’d have to do some serious damage control to salvage at least some parts of that. Provided they got out of the situation fast and without a deactivated frame of the Vosian Winglord in their wake. Kaon simply couldn’t afford to have Vos turning on them at the moment, no matter that they were – for the time being – in peace. 

“Starscream.” – Megatron knew all of it as well, and was marginally calmer than Dreadnought when he finally arrived to the scene, briefed on his way about the situation. Drawing the still shocked and unresisting Optronix to him he snarled at the Seeker angrily, but with that tight, dangerous control promised harsh retribution.

“Explain yourself, Winglord or our states will be enemies fast… and your Trine will need a new leader too.”

“Threats? Hahh! When I was just mentioning some of the possibilities this poor little thing who seemingly wasn’t aware of them!”

“The tradition you mentioned has not been used for gigavorns and it was considered barbaric even then.” – Soundwave interjected in an icy tone. He projected that coldness into Dreadnought’s processor too to calm him down. – “Neither of us has even considered it”

“Especially as there is no need for it.”

Megatron held Optronix close and glowered nastily at the suddenly unsure-looking Seeker. Soundwave couldn’t read the flier’s processor directly but he could well extrapolate his thoughts from his behaviour; the Seeker wouldn’t dare to demand proof, but he did consider Megatron’s unspoken bluff to be real. If Optronix was with sparkling then his insults were in effect pointless, dangerous, whatever plan he’s been hatching moot. But it was a risky bluff with Optronix present and that was where the Seeker’s red optics flashed immediately.

Optronix himself barely got over his shock when suddenly all the attention was focused on him. He was hugged close to Megatron’s dark plating, the strength, the warmth and the trickling worry and care through the bond gave him the feeling of safety. The idea that the Winglord said was… barbaric but at the same time unfortunately believable - so far as he learned about Kaonites.

What made him disregard it as an eventuality was Megatron himself. The warlord was fierce and possessive in everything and Optronix couldn’t for a single astrosecond imagine that he’d give his mate willingly to even his own brothers. Not to mention a complete stranger… He realized that in the last groon or so he came to trust the big mech who has never broken his word to Optronix and seemed to change completely towards him. And… yes, he came to love this Megatron lately, the young mech admitted it to himself. 

Optronix straightened his back struts and lifted his helm proudly. He made no move to free himself from Megatron’s embrace as he spoke up with the same icy politeness he talked to Dreadnought on previous occasions.

“Winglord Starscream, I can assure you that Lord Megatron is quite enough of a mech for me. Your rudeness is not appreciated and I suggest removing yourself from this company.”

Soundwave nodded inwardly and cheered the young mech. There was an advantage in having a diplomatically trained mate beside Megatron and it came out perfectly now. Optronix revealed nothing, confirmed nothing, but diffused the Seeker’s little bomb with impeccable politeness and form. Without any mech deactivating the Seeker. Yet.

“We… we’ll have to see soon some proof!” – Starscream hissed, but his wings betrayed his insecurities – “Until then… Vos will wait.”

He stormed out of the empty tavern, Soundwave signalling the guard to let the Seeker go without a fuss. He wouldn’t go far anyway. Optronix gently freed himself from Megatron’s embrace and stood facing them with a thoughtful expression.

“He thinks that I’m sparked now, right?”

Soundwave nodded silently. Megatron’s servo tightened into a fist. 

“And he wants to see proof of it soon.”

It wasn’t really a question so none of them insulted him with an unnecessary answer.


	11. At last

_Warning for interface of the spark and sticky kind and lots of mush. :-P_

\--------------------------------------------------

“Obviously the excursions will have to stop now… at least for a while.”

Soundwave wasn’t happy to take that little freedom away from Optronix, but it was necessary in the situation and Megatron nodded back scowling. At the first threat of torture Swindle admitted selling info on Optronix to Starscream and was now spending his time in the deepest cell of the palace, for time undetermined, his wealth confiscated. Not that they needed it but it was a worse punishment for the greedy mech than imprisonment. 

They couldn’t do anything with Starscream though. The Winglord knew this and flaunted his immunity to their faceplates, his smug façade an unwelcome sight in the Palace events, his presence an unspoken reminder of the scandal he could stir, had he played more on the news. Soundwave wasn’t even sure how much the mech knew; Seekers, as vicious warriors were the kind of mechs actually welcome in Kaon, able to go freely around and could befriend anyone really, gathering information for who knows how long. 

Vosians were the oldest allies of Kaon, the Winglords and their Trines close friends of the ruling family, some even becoming mates for Kaon’s rulers over the vorns and vice versa. Albeit Starscream himself wasn’t as well liked as his Sire before, so far none of them suspected the Seeker plotting against them. Sure, he had hatched outrageous plots all the time and some of them were as good as underhanded… but his activities so far were all aimed against other city-states. 

This thing though… was either a spur of the moment thing – not unimaginable with Starscream, widely considered more than a bit glitched and unpredictable – or a deep and dangerous plot to put a wedge between Kaon and Vos. What made it even more dangerous that if it was a plot, then Starscream couldn’t have acted without the support of another city-state. Soundwave consequently put all his agents to high alert everywhere, warning them of the situation and demanding any sign in any kingdom to be considered and investigated, no matter how unlikely it looked.

“May I ask a little more information about Lord Starscream… and the situation in general?” – Optronix nodded his reluctant understanding and sad acceptance to Soundwave but asked his question from Megatron. The young mech seemed to grow up suddenly and behaved almost like he was always part of the family – “If I’m so much involved, it is best if I know the facts.”

They were sitting in Optronix’s room, Megatron beside him and unsure whether he should hug the Iaconian again or refrain from touching; Dreadnought opposite to them on the other side of the table, alternately glowering on Optronix and looking away as he saw Megatron’s impatient flash of optics. Soundwave nestled himself into a recliner, running possible scenarios in his processor while toying with a cube of Backfire, and Shockwave has just arrived and was introduced to Optronix, as the scientist hasn’t visited the Iaconian so far. 

The family circle complete, Soundwave took up the task of briefly sketching the overall situation to Optronix, with occasional elaboration on the Seeker himself from Megatron. Not mentioned was the fact that the two were casual lovers in their youth and Starscream’s Sire was all for the Heirs to became more than that… until the two had a break-up, the reasons never since discussed and decided to be just friends and allies. 

“Starscream can’t be persuaded to just forget what he learned. He is not the kind even if he acted on a sudden whim, not a plot.”

“Is that likely?” – Optronix looked at them with brow-plates high and optics wide. Such irresponsible behaviour from the ruler of a kingdom was… unusual to say at least. But then, in Iacon, they never had any dealings with Vos as it was the most remote of the kingdoms, on the opposite side of the planet.

“From Starscream…? Definitely.” – Megatron’s lip components twitched in amusement – “He is… a glitched annoyance?”

“Erratic but brilliant?” – Shockwave’s words held a tiny amount of approval towards the mech, acknowledging the Seeker’s intelligence and scientific training.

“Unpredictable but a genius.” – Soundwave was diplomatic as usual.

“Batshit insane?” – Dreadnought on the other servo, never minced words.

Optronix laughed out a bit at the colourful descriptions, getting the idea from the angles presented. His own assessment of the winged mech was in one word, dangerous, not contradicting any of the descriptions he was given. 

“So whatever he is planning or not, he can’t be deterred. I can’t see many options then…”

His voice trailed away, suddenly unsure. He didn’t look at Megatron, avoiding the warlord’s glance… but he didn’t draw away from him. The bond fluctuated uneasily between them, emotions flowing this way and that, none of them fully formed, none of them clear even to themselves...

“It is still your choice, Optronix.”

“But it’s not much of a choice, if I understand well.”

“I would never… none of us would ever invoke that wretched custom!”

“But Starscream would… right?”

Megatron scowled angrily. Yes, the damned Seeker would do it, out of spite or just because his fancy dictated him to do so… and he couldn’t continue to keep Optronix away from his court any more, Starscream made sure to spread the news before they were back to the Palace even. His nobles and courtiers would expect him to introduce his bondmate now that he was supposedly carrying his heir.

_“Brother, you must talk to him, tell him the truth.”_ \- Soundwave’s voice intruded to Megatron’s thoughts through the comm – _“We’ll leave you two for this. Be… try to be careful.”_

Soundwave stood, comming his brothers too and they left the room after a short goodbye. Optronix felt that something significant, something serious was in the air, in Megatron’s tense mood and that they were left alone without any decision or further talks. The Iaconian meant what he’s said; he’d consent to interface with Megatron again for a sparkling. He wasn’t fully reconciled and ready, but enough so that he could do it. He hoped.

But Megatron made no move to shift closer, in fact the warlord looked uncomfortable, almost… guilty?

“Optronix… there is something I must tell you.” – his voice was low, uneasy and Optronix couldn’t help but wonder what was going on – “It is… it is my fault, like most things between us, but you have the right to know it now. I only ask that you listen to me… all of it before you judge me.”

“I… don’t understand.” – but he was deeply disturbed by Megatron’s grave seriousness.

“I did manage to spark you once… but the sparkling was lost. I… caused it, although at the time neither of us knew about it.”

Optronix sat frozen like a statue at the revelation, servo coming up in front of his chest. His spark throbbed painfully, his processor roiled and his memory banks threw up the time when… so that was that awful feeling of loss, that unexplained turning point… he understood it now. But knowing made it no easier to accept. He had a sparkling… a little flame of life and it was extinguished? His pain flared through even their still half-closed bond and made Megatron wince. 

“I’m sorry… I know it means nothing now, but I didn’t know about it.”

“Nor did I…” – Optronix whispered. 

“Hook told me that it was very young then, not easily perceivable.”

“Was it… was it the reason why you’ve changed?”

“Yes. It was as though I suddenly saw you in a different light – and saw my mistakes, my maltreatment of you…”

Optronix sat there without moving but his spark was painfully throbbing in the remembered loss. Anger and hurt fought in his processor, but repressed the anger, not wanting to complicate matters with it. Hurt was… harder to deal with.

“I had a sparkling…” – he whispered, blue optics staring ahead unfocused – “… and I can’t even remember it.”

“I’m…”

“I know that you’re sorry. You proved it since, Megatron.”

Optronix looked up, shifted and sought the red gaze until it connected to his blue one. He had to be strong now, move over the hurt. Things just complicated themselves immensely, what with the threat the Seeker meant and now the sparkling’s issue between them… but he couldn’t loose himself in the pain or in pointless anger. He felt Megatron’s remorse and felt it to be honest… 

“I mean it. It is horrible to know but I don’t feel connected to that sparkling that I never knew about.”

Optronix was only stretching it a little bit. He did feel the loss, but it really wasn’t personal. The sparkling was barely more than a little flame, without a name, a personality, a frame… it was hard to accept its loss, but he wasn’t connected to it emotionally, he was capable of looking at the matter from a little distance. – “If anything… it means we can spark together and do it again.”

Megatron stared back to his mate incredulously, suddenly finding it hard to say the right words. He was ready for anything from hysterics till rage or even violence, but not… forgiveness, not Optronix accepting it so… calmly? It broke all his remaining preconceived notions about the young mech - and Megatron didn’t like to be surprised or proven wrong. 

“I don’t… I thought…” – it was rare that he could say nothing but Optronix made him splutter and unable to react yet again – this time with an inner strength he’d never expected the young mech to have.

“Ohh, I feel its loss keenly… make no mistake. But I see no point in making a scene over something neither of us can help any more.”

Optronix nodded his helm forward as the loss and mourning rose in him like a wave, but he fought it down. He’d have to be strong now, prove himself and save the situation. He could do it. Slowly, he rose and with small, hesitant steps moved until he stood facing the sitting warlord. They were nearly the same height this way and it made what he was going to do easier. 

“I’m willing to forget it… if you are.” – he whispered, leaning closer.

“What can I do to make up for it? I want to do something…” 

“You can… you can give me another sparkling.”

A flash of red met with steady blue light. Megatron hesitantly lifted a servo to caress the blue helm.

“Are you sure…? Do you mean it?”

“Yes.”

Optronix closed up the remaining distance, pushing aside the last shreds of uncertainty and fear. He pushed back Megatron too, the warlord letting the light touch shove his greater bulk back on the couch. The young mech straddled the silvery thighs, feeling the unsure tension in them. Lightly squirming on the warm lap, he hoped to awaken an entirely different tension in Megatron. 

“I want to put everything that happened behind us.” – he whispered close to the helm intimidating him for so long, feeling the other’s ventilation to pick up at the closeness. – “Let us try again and make it work this time. The bond, the interface, the sparkling… I’m ready now.”

Megatron slowly slid his servos up on the slender hips and waist holding his bondmate close and feeling his warm plating under his battle-scarred servos. He concentrated on the bond, cautiously opening it up between them like they did a few times, slowly touching the other’s spark and thoughts until they established the usual, light connection. But this time Optronix didn’t stop there, he pushed and cajoled and pulled him closer inside and out, to open the bond up more. 

Slowly, the connection blossomed and feelings, emotions and thoughts came rushing at him, this time clear and concise, like they were his own. Only… they weren’t. They were exotic still, surprising, young, innocent and hopeful, like Optronix himself. Megatron was almost hesitant to show his gruff, strict and aggressive nature, it felt so… so dark compared to the lightness of the Iaconian. 

But Optronix didn’t let him hide. _::I’m not afraid of you now, nor repulsed by what you are.::_ he whispered through the bond, the words coming through now as clearly as he’d spoken them aloud. _::Let me in, please… I want to see you for what you truly are.::_ Megatron let the light, kind presence into his spark and processor, opening up the first time in his long-long function. He felt the delighted joy at being accepted and Optronix was suddenly inside him in a way perceived almost as dangerous.

_::I’m no danger to you…::_ the young mech’s inner voice whispered _::I want to share not take.::_ Megatron hugged Optronix close with his strong arms and let the younger mech hug him inside. Real world and mindscape mixed and he wasn’t sure who had their helm nodded to whose shoulder. _::I’m nothing special…::_ he grumbled inside _::I’m just an old warrior.::_

Light, pealing laughter answered to him _::You are a leader. A strategist. A statesmech too.::_ Optronix touched his inner being flirtingly _::You are fascinating. Strong, capable, protecting…::_ Megatron felt a little embarrassment and a lot of shame _::I botched that protecting part…::_ but Optronix was having none of it _::You will protect me now. The past doesn’t matter.::_ the smaller mech burrowed into his embrace, like showing him how much he trusted Megatron. 

_::I will. I promise.::_ Megatron sent his promise through the bond to show his sincerity. His digits traced transformation seams lightly, dipping in to stroke cables and wires. _::I’ll be the bondmate I should have been always.::_ Optronix’s servos clasped on strong plates, tracing the flight surfaces interestedly _::That’s all I ask…::_ his pelvic plates started to rub on his thighs, his front scratched on Megatron’s chest plates, straining to get closer and closer _::I’ll be your bondmate forever. Bear your sparklings. **Our** sparklings.::_

The light blue, questing digits froze for a nanoklik, the heating, squirming frame stilled and Optronix lifted his helm to look at him inside and outside _::I will love you.::_ It wasn’t a promise and it wasn’t a pledge, Megatron felt it clearly. It was a declaration and it was… despite of everything that happened between them – true. _::I’ve always loved you…::_ he answered, discovering the truth of it with some awe but still only able to say it within their conjoined mindscape _::I just never realized… or accepted it before.::_

The answering smile was blinding to his optics and breathtaking in the inside and ended with a hot, drawn-out kiss, leaving both of them reeling with its intensity.

Gentle, blue digits drew circles and curves on silvery chest plates, leaving tingling, sensitive tracks behind. Then they slid down on the central seam and Megatron shuddered. _::Are you sure…?::_ the digits answered wordlessly and the bond yearned to join with him _::Yes.::_ came the simple answer, slightly breathless but determined. Optronix’s optics were bright, wide and very serious. _::I want it. I want you.::_

The central seam parted under the questing digits and Megatron’s mouth captured the younger mech’s in a kiss. Their chest-plates were flush to each other and both parting, spark chambers spiraling open. Red and blue light spilled out, excited sparks pulsing fast, anticipating the merge. A tiny thread of apprehension was soothed with a gentle, thorough kiss and Megatron let Optonix do the closing of the last, tiny distance, let him be in control of the merge. 

The bond fully open as it was, the merge at first brought no new knowledge or awareness of the other; but it caused a sharp gasp of pleasure in Optronix that reverberated in their merged sparks. _::so strong… so imposing…::_ The moans were swallowed by the kiss and the sparks flared, pulsed rhythmically, toying with the other, fighting a playful battle of wills, lust and pleasure… _::so beautiful… so brave::_ their frames scratched on each other, chests nearly fused and pelvic plates were sliding open to reveal hot, ready and dripping interface arrays.

_It was so different_ , a fleeting thought swelled out from Optronix’s processor, so very different from… before. Shame-tinted regret answered it, but then both were swept away by the moment, the sensations of the present rising like waves of an ocean, like the tide that inevitably swallows up everything… they succumbed to it, leaving the past behind and giving themselves over to the present. 

It was automatism, instinct which made Megatron to hurriedly prepare the hot, wet valve so insistently rubbing on his spike, so eager now, wanting him and not fearing… barely giving him enough time before demanding to be filled. Pealing laughter floated from the Iaconian and grumbling, serious amusement answered it _::I won’t ever dare to harm you::_ as he worked one, then two digits in and out of him gently.

Not that he was able to keep his own arousal in check, not while their sparks reveled in shared delight, chasing each other ever higher in pleasure. All too soon Optronix impatiently snagged his digits out of his valve and wordlessly demanded his spike, the young mech assuring him within their shared mindscape that he was well able to take him now. _::You won’t. Now…::_

Megatron nearly growled at the tightness as the young mech sank onto his spike, his servos on narrow hips keeping Optronix from going too fast – but only just. But the fully open bond, the merge showed no pain, only the – _impossible!_ – redoubling of pleasure as their sparks and frames were joined completely. The heat grew until they both felt burning up in the sensations and it even grew when Optronix moved and friction made Megatron groan – _he wasn’t moaning, never!_ – in rarely attained heights of sensations.

They couldn’t go long, not with such intense pleasure, such immense joy that poured forth freely from Optronix. Megatron was hesitant, almost afraid – no, never fearing! Just worried… – at so much enjoyment shown so freely. He’d learned that such openness got one deceived… _::I’ll never abuse your trust…::_ the slightly hurt and barely coherent answer came to his unvoiced worries and Megatron was ashamed for a klik, before banishing the memory and its winged originator to the past where it belonged and gave Optronix his joy and love as freely as the young mech did. 

The climax came close on its heels and a higher-toned yell and the deeper roar entwined in the room, echoing among the walls as their sparks felt like exploding and imploding at the same time – and physical release followed it almost like an afterthought. Optronix fell on him completely limp and Megatron held him in his arms, barely more coherent but holding him close, protecting his mate.


	12. Announcement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the long delays between updates! But here it is at last. :-)

The grand throne chamber within the Palace of Kaon was awash with a swirling thong of mechs, copious noise that hurt Soundwave’s audials and nearly palpable expectations floating like fine streamers of rainbow colours among the mechs’ fields present. Among the dark but rich décor, under the soaring ceiling that made it look like the night cycle sky glittered above them the colourful mechs shifted, walked, rolled, glided and in the case of some floated from place to place like so many mecha-butterflies feeding on the crystals of the garden.

Guards dotted the colourful crowd, like sharp punctuation marks, their weapons a clear reminder of where and why the guests were invited. From the small, hidden room over the gallery, through the spyhole designed to look like a decorative fixture, the telepath watched the collected nobles and few foreign dignitaries who managed to snatch an invitation for the celebratory event and checked the mood for any danger or inconvenience.

He was far more careful than ever before too. This snooping around in the unsuspecting processors of the nobles and diplomats was nothing new to him, but in reality he hasn’t got a whiff of anything suspicious for megavorns – the citizens and nobles of Kaon were satisfied with their rulers and the few, carefully screened diplomats would not even dream of trying anything inimical in the atmosphere where they would be deactivated before able to draw a vibroknife or blaster fully. 

There were the usual groups, he noted, the main figures of the military and the scientific cast converging around Dreadnought and Shockwave, trying to glean details out of the two – unsuccessfully of course, as they both enjoyed what was to come far more to spoil the surprise. The foreign diplomats collected into two distinct groups with the representatives of the allied city-states in one and the neutrals in another. Every other mech drifted from place to place in an eons old dance of courtiers… except one. Or rather, three but one dictated their path in everything.

Soundwave followed carefully a certain winged frame around even as he was assessing the whole crowd. The Winglord and his trine-mates were making deliberate rounds in the chambers, talking to all mechs, never stopping in one place and it worried Soundwave slightly. True, Starscream loved the attention and so his behaviour could have been inconspicuous – but in the light of recent events it still was a source of worry.

In the last few orns Starscream was warned through many channels and in many, covert and blunter ways to stop his plotting and talking and lately he seemed to take the warnings to spark. They couldn’t stop the rumour mill to spread the news of Optronix being sparked, but Soundwave fed it a few news of his own making too. Partly to smother the whole matter into confusion, partly to attempt to explain why the much-expected news weren’t released yet officially. 

Starscream’s thoughts as usual caused Soundwave a headache and yielded little useful information. Seekers were the hardest to read and their Winglord – trained to defend his processor through characteristic chaotic, _flighty_ thought-processes - nearly impossible. What gave him a little solace was that the tricoloured Seeker was - covertly and well-hidden - but definitely giving worried signals and not as sure of himself as usual. His trine-mates too kept closer to him than they’d generally do, like expecting to have to protect their ruler-lover before the evening ended… and even Thundercracker fidgeted a little from time to time and he was by far the calmest of the trio. So they weren’t confident, which Soundwave decided to take as good sign. 

He commed to Megatron, satisfied after nearly half a joor of sampling the mood of the waiting and expectant crowd that they would be safe from unexpected and unwanted surprises during the audience. He grinned freely in the lonely little room at the Warlord’s answer, grumbling about the damned protocol, like always before a grand audience. The telepath admitted to himself that it was a bit excessive, but then, it wasn’t all that often – the last such occasion was vorns ago. So his brother could just swallow his growls and play his part.

Soundwave wasn’t worried about Optronix at all. The Iaconian Prince was well-trained in protocol and state functions, and so he would take the event far easier than Megatron even with the throng of stranger mechs fawning over him – and probably with considerable more grace. The telepath debated within himself for another breem to stay up in his cubbyhole or join his brothers in the chambers, but decided at the end that he could keep an optic and half his processor on the dangers from down too and left the small room. 

“Lord Soundwave!” – he was spotted the klik he set a pede into the throne room – “We were wondering if you’d join us this fine evening!”

“Of course, Ambassador Tailgate. I didn’t want to miss the announcement.”

“Maybe you could shed a little light into the rumours flying around…”

“I can assure you that everything will be revealed in due time.”

The Ambassador and the few courtiers who collected around them looked disappointed but dared not to press Soundwave any further. They continued with surface-deep chatter about the weather – which almost never changed in the Kaon region -, the fashion – which was next to nonexistent in the warrior state – and Soundwave was sure that they would bring up the inevitable third meaningless topic about the brands and tastes of high grade if Megatron wasn’t in a hurry. He rather hoped to be spared any more polite conversations. 

But it wasn’t Megatron saving him from the utter boredom of court chatter. The klik his processor perceived the Seeker’s fluttering, flighty thoughts behind him, Soundwave was alert, focused and completely ignoring the still chattering courtiers vying for his attention, while keeping his normal, polite façade on as he turned to face Starscream.

“Lord Starscream.” – he bowed very slightly, less than their relative rank would dictate, keeping his tone just a touch drier than it was polite. The experienced courtiers picked up his clues beautifully, forming an empty space around him, distancing themselves from the one not in the favour of the brother of Kaon’s ruler. Not that Starscream noticed it of course, more than likely the conceited Winglord took it as respect towards him or somesuch.

“Soundwave.” – The Seeker was his usual conceited, almost-rude self on the surface – “Will we have to wait long for this _enormous event_ you kept implying?”

His scratchy tone was downright rude at the last sentence, stressed his words with a lewd smirk, completely conveying what he’s been spreading as a rumour – that the news were just an elaborate hoax. Soundwave kept his anger in check only with ages old practice in diplomacy. 

“Not much longer at all, Winglord.”

“Are you sure there won’t be an unfortunate accident or something delaying the announcement?”

“I cannot foresee accidental events, but we do hope that no such thing comes across our plans. Unless you know about any such…?”

The assembled courtiers watched the two Lords with helms moving from side to side as they were exchanging loaded words like it was a duel. Which, Soundwave wryly reflected inwards, in a way it was.

“Are you accusing me, Soundwave?”

“Far be it, _Mighty Winglord_.” – he could do dry tones as well with just a touch of threat in it – “We know that you would never act against Kaon.”

Starscream’s wings talked more openly than he ever did. This time they folded back so much that even his wingmates couldn’t help but glance at them. It was unusual from Starscream to openly show signs of fear.

“Never!” – the Seeker forced his wings to flare forward boldly – “It would be foolish anyway.”

Now, that sounded almost like honesty from Starscream. Soundwave forbid his lipplates to smirk. Just.

“Just like you say, Winglord. I’m glad that we understand each other.”

He only got an angry flare of the red optics as answer before Starscream stomped away with his increasingly worried-looking wingmates in tow. Soundwave turned to the courtiers nonchalantly, like nothing special happened.

“I believe that the Warlord is about to grace us with his presence.”

A small gong sounded off and the throng of mechs started to swirl again, splitting in two, leaving a straight line in the middle. The most prestigious and highest ranked guests claimed their spots by the route Megatron was going to take to his throne, while the rest tried to see the events over their shoulders and helms. The minibot ambassadors became suddenly popular as even those behind them could see far better than say from a spot behind the flaring wings of the Seekers. 

Soundwave picked his way through the crowd, taking up his customary place beside the empty thrones, with himself and Shockwave flanking Dreadnought, the eldest. The other side of the thrones was occupied by the High Priests of Unicron and Primus and the flag-bearers – this time displaying not only Kaon’s stark colours proudly but a smaller Iaconian flag as well. The huge chambers slowly settled, the mechs found their places and stopped talking, awaiting the second sounding of the gong, signalling the arrival of Megatron.

The ornate doors slid apart and the crowd tried to bend forward enough to see them the soonest. Soundwave nearly laughed out loud and Dreadnought did let a short guffaw out at the comical sight – the straight line of mechs, all different colours, shapes and sizes, but all leaning forward and to their left, like so many younglings sensing a delicious treat. 

Megatron wore his usual, gruff and forbidding expression, but he was polished to the highest sheen his silvery armour could produce, studded with some war memorabilia and a ceremonial sword of Kaon by his side – an ancient piece, useless in war any more, but the oldest relic the family had. His sensory crests, freed from the weight of the helm spread like a proud crown over his head, making him look even taller and magnificent. Soundwave thought it a pity he freed them so rarely.

But every optic was on the much smaller frame by his side, the young Iaconian, who shone with the brightness of his cheerful colours, holding on Megatron’s servo lightly, but radiating self-confidence and happiness. A slight, polite smile played on his lipplates as his azure optics rowed over the crowd waiting for him, singling out noone as protocol and manners dictated. He looked like he belonged to Megatron’s side, despite of the enormous differences in height, weight, strength, colours, temperaments… everything really. But he made it all look unimportant with the self-confidence of being right where he should be.

Every single optic in the throne room – bar Soundwave’s – focused on the young mech’s middle, though no carrying would show even the slightest sign this early. It was nearly comical really, only Megatron didn’t take it as such. His warning growl at the improper stares made the questing optics snap upwards, widen and latch onto him in sudden fright. He hurried their steps a little more than protocol would have it, but the procession still felt fairly slow between the rows of mechs all eagerly staring at them. 

As tradition demanded, they stopped at certain mechs who were in favour or had a political importance and exchanged a few formal words; Megatron playing his part through much practice but little grace, while Optronix was immediately conquering the mechs on his side with his natural friendliness and trained politeness, as not even the gruff Kaonites were able to withstand his charm. 

Starscream, as his rank dictated was the closest to the thrones and Soundwave slightly tensed as Optronix approached him on Megatron’s arm. The Seeker’s wings were flared to the fullest and his mirror-bright plating puffed up in a dazzling display of self-importance. Orion stepped closer, like he wanted to speak with him a few words and the whole room held its collective invents – but then the Consort glided on with only a glacier-cold glance thrown at the Seeker in passing, his whole, small, lithe and colourful frame radiating a sudden, surprising disdain and cold rejection that it surprised even Soundwave. 

It took barely a nanoklik, but the effect was profound. Starscream’s lipplates fell open and his wings jerked backwards like they were being hit before he could force them to loosen and hitched them up. A slight sussurating noise rose like wind, the many mechs around spreading the events by comms and whispers. The frames around him retreated, leaving him and his wingmates suddenly alone within an empty circle – the courtiers got the signals perfectly and suddenly no mech wanted to be associated with the apparently out-of-favour Seeker. 

Megatron barely squashed his smirk and his servo tightened slightly over Optronix’s in a silent approval that also came across the bond perfectly. His red optics also fell at the suddenly worried-looking Seeker and he didn’t even try to contain the sneer curving the corner of his lipplates down. The same red glance softened immediately as he turned and led Optronix to the smaller throne and though he refrained from any outward signals, the bond was full of appraisal and mirth. 

Optronix bowed slightly, a small smile playing on his lipplates as he waited Megatron to be seated and then took his own throne. He completely ignored the Seeker just a few steps away, contemplating fleeing from Megatron’s wrath… or the complete failure of his plots and the eventual shame that would come out of it. Soundwave allowed his facial features to draw to a slow, easy smile while the anthem’s deep, harsh notes rumbled through the throne room, knowing that it would make the Seeker even more nervous. Optronix might be still an unknown quantity in the power-play of the Kaon court, but the Winglord had to know that Soundwave would just become a much harder negotiating partner in the trade agreements between Kaon and Vos. 

“I have an important announcement to make to the mechs of Kaon.”

Megatron’s deep voice rolled across the throne room after the formalities were done and the attending mechs became even more attentive, the slight murmur died down completely. Starscream was the only one present who seemed to want to disappear, though the Seeker’s pride has so far barred him from a humiliating retreat. Megatron’s voice acquired a proud, victorious tinge and he laid a servo on Optronix’s smaller one gently.

“After so long, my Consort is carrying our sparkling, the future heir of Kaon! Let us all rejoice at this joyous occasion!”

The whisper that rose up wasn’t even a whisper any more as mechs discussed the news with their friends, colleagues and fellow courtiers. It was greeted by polite but loud clapping that gradually rose to louder shouts of congratulations and well-wishes. It was important news; for the Kaonites it meant long-term stability for the growing kingdom and a happy news for the ruling family; for the representatives of the other kingdoms, it meant possibilities for future bondings, ties to be made… and of course the rise of Iacon’s value among the allies by the means of simple association with the carrying consort.

The Iaconian ambassador looked surprised for a breem, like he completely forgot about the King’s Consort, but masked it soon with a proud expression, like it was himself carrying the future Heir. He was immediately surrounded by eager mechs, who suddenly wanted to discuss matters concerning Iacon and Kaon. The so-far nearly ignored mech hid the fact that he never knew or talked with Lord Optronix but it didn’t stop him to use his newfound fame to promise several interviews and audience with him – in exchange for promises and favours for Iacon. 

“There will be celebrations and a holiday to commemorate this event.”- Megatron went on, after the small roar of whispers died down in the court.

It was like the usually slow and never-changing structure of the court was suddenly reworked and revitalized by the simple fact of a small mech by Megatron’s side, his easy, small smile – and the servo resting automatically on his middle, protecting its precious burden that itself was hardly more than an orn old, only showing up on Hook’s deep scan and hardly a burden yet… but it gave him a confidence not even Megatron could, to face a throng of stranger mechs and stand in front of them as an equal they had never accepted him before.

Optronix felt relief and elation flutter in his tanks at the reactions – he could feel, almost touch the mood in the throne room changing towards him, from a cold ignorance into interest, respect and even some of the adulation they gave to Megatron only so far, now fell on him too. It was a heady feeling, one he still had trouble to come to terms with. On the surface he was careful to behave as protocol demanded, not singling out any mech in the throne chambers, not talking with any mech more than with others – but inside he was almost worried that it was again just some pleasant dream. Things changed so much, so fast and became so good, so perfect, that he was afraid that they would be lies. 

But his worried flutter was met in the bond with a deep, intense and powerful presence that he came to recognize as Megatron and the reassuring, encouraging wave coming from him. It calmed his fears and soothed his concerns, giving him the strength to play his part further. 

“Winglord Starscream.” – Megatron’s bass voice was drier than ash and rust – “I understand that you promised your own revelation. Now is the best time to come out with it – and join Vos to Kaon in celebration.”

Starscream’s dark faceplates visibly paled at being called out on his bluffs and lies publicily, in font of the whole court. Optronix caught the nervous, worried glance the Winglord’s trinemates cast at each other behind his wings and the way their colourful wings trembled behind them. At any other time, he would have been interested in those wings – but now their faceplates held his attention. And every other mech’s attention in the throne chambers.

The rumours the Seeker Lord has had spread were known to nearly every courtier, just like the fact that they were disproved openly by Kaon’s Warlord. To be called out on it meant that the formerly close ally and influential Seeker was suddenly thrown to the cyberwolves – and Starscream has made many enemies and insulted many mechs in his puffed-up obnoxiousness over the vorns. Already some mechs were whispering and comm lines were being utilized, some mechs drifted together and suddenly many optics present were trained on colourful but drooping Seeker wings with a predatory glint. 

Starscream himself gaped, his ubiquitous shrill voice remaining silent for once while his sharp and famous processor whirled almost visibly to find an adequate answer. He was a master of acting subtly and covertly and never has any mech before called him out openly on one of his schemes. Most didn’t dare to, fearing his wrath or Megatron’s disapproval. Now though that his protection seemed to disappear… 

“I must have been… misinformed, yes, misinformed, Mighty Warlord…” – he babbled at last when the silence stretched so long that not speaking up was not an option any more – “It was such an obvious untruth that… that I’ve never… yes, never wanted to give voice to it.”

Optronix, kind mech that he generally was, was not above feeling some measure of smugness at seeing the winged mech brought low. Megatron, on the other servo, seemed to positively revel at it.

“Of course the Winglord of Vos would not stoop so low as to spread slander about an _old friend_.” – Megatron paused, a little, cruel smirk drawing his lipplates – “Or about my mate who is carrying my Heir.” 

“O-of course not! I’d never!” - Starscream’s shrill voice quavered a little under the pressure – “I wish you and your mate the best only!”

“Indeed… then the best would be if you returned to your kingdom that you neglected for our sake for so long. I don’t want Vos to miss the presence of its Winglord. You’ve graced our court for long enough.”

Starscream’s optics widened comically at the almost rude dismissal. In diplomatic terms Megatron just degraded Vos in front of his whole court and he couldn’t even protest about it. Though his emotional state made thinking rather difficult, Starscream knew that a force like Vos was not to be belittled… unless Megatron intended to replace his support with anther… like Iacon with the influence of that little whelp of a mech, who caused him to be shamed in front of the court. 

His red optics flashed on to the serenely sitting mate of the Warlord and he scowled. Fragging mech, couldn’t stay barren for another few orns? The Seeker was sure that when he confronted them in that little tavern, the Consort wasn’t carrying, despite of his words. Seekers had an inborn sense that told them about the presence of newsparks and his wasn’t signaling back then – but it did so a few breems ago, when the Consort was close enough for it. 

He had thought it would be a brilliant idea to put the mech to shame, maybe mess with his processor a little and create some discontent among the Kaonite brothers. It would have been great to have Megatron at some disadvantage at last so he could have a little more influence. Besides… he was curious about the little mech, the Iaconian Princeling he’d never seen since the bonding. How well did he take Starscream’s own place in Megatron’s berth… according to rumours not so well that a little messing around wouldn’t affect him. 

But how in the Pit they solved all his machinations and their own problems in a few orns, Starscream still had no idea. But solve it they did, he scowled while still trying to find some words that would save him from an ignominious extortion from Kaon. It would be a disgrace to be sent away like a common courtier and he’d have to think about his Kingdom’s interests as well. Vos wasn’t strong enough to stand on its own against the alliance of the northern kingdoms. They needed Kaon, because all the aerial might wouldn’t save the flier kingdom if the grounders decided to invade the lower levels and blew the towers and spires to the Pit.

“Would you miss the Winglord’s blessings for your Heir, Warlord?” – maybe if he ignored the whole sorry fiasco, Megatron would play along… or so he hoped – “I sincerely doubt Iacon would extend the same servo for it.”

But Starscream’s hopes were crushed in the fiery flash of those red optics he knew so well…

“You will never lay a servo on my Heir, Starscream!”

White wings jerked backwards like they were hit by the words, Starscream hissing nervously. The old buckethead was serious, it appeared. Time to beat a strategic retreat…

“I wouldn’t dream so… And you might be right, Warlord, I have perhaps neglected my duties to Vos. Just like so many of my fliers, stationed in Kaon… they, too long to return to our home towers.”

The court was deathly quiet. All mechs present watched the proceedings between the rulers with nary an invent to break the tension. On the galleries guards glanced at each other nervously, winged Vosians and grounder Kaonites suddenly separating, putting space among each other, unsure where the kingdoms stood now… former friends, brothers in arms, training partners were now measuring up each other as potential enemies. It all stood on Megatron’s reply now…

Soundwave, though enjoying Starscream’s discomfiture immensely, was frowning deeply the last few breems. A breakup between Kaon and Vos was highly inadvisable, no matter how big an afthole the Winglord was. He commed to Megatron hurriedly, advising caution and tact. Starscream was one thing – his fliers quite another. Megatron grudgingly accepted his advice and reined in his anger.

“A successful alliance should not be broken by harsh words… or base rumours.” – he offered, though his voice still held the contempt and distaste. He glanced at Optronix, and continued in a slightly more normal tone – “If my Consort is willing to forget the insults… then I can do so too.”

Starscream’s red glance and about a hundred other pairs of optics focused to the smaller frame on the lower throne again. Optronix glanced at Megatron, clearly telling to the court that he was deferring to his mate – and then nodded towards the Seeker, optic still cold and hard. 

“Your accusation, Winglord Starscream was in bad taste, unworthy for one of your rank” – Optronix paused and took in the quivering wing of the tricoloured Seeker. He repressed a gleeful smirk and continued – “But I’m willing to forget it for our kingdoms’ sake.”

It was clear that Starscream only forced back the indignant answer to avoid an outright war. His wings betrayed his frustrated anger but he nodded, fuming and stormed out of the throne chamber. His standing in the court was in shambles, himself publicly humiliated by the one he had hoped to ensnare in his plot. Starscream was emphatically not a happy Seeker and his wingmates knew who would bear the brunt of it once in private…

Optronix, too was glad to leave after several joors of concentration and polite, diplomatic acting. The Kaon court was intense and allowing no slackness, even for one like him, growing up in a similar court. He appreciated though the straightforward honesty of the Kaonites – it was far easier to deal with than the usual behaviour in other courts, like Iacon’s. Here at least he knew that the reactions he was getting could be taken as a good indication of mechs’ attitudes towards him, without hidden agendas.

Like Megatron himself… once the misunderstandings cleared from between them, the mech was completely different from the stoic, cold lump of metal he used to appear to the young Iaconian. Once they left the throne room and returned to Optronix’s quarters he was laughing raucously and recalling the Seeker’s ridiculous reactions and fright in details. Optronix thought that it was a bit exaggerated, but then, given the stormy common history of the two, as he gained from the bond it was extremely satisfying to his bondmate.

“Are you well?”

Optronix was also glad that the fact of him carrying seemed to give an absolution to Megatron from having to appear uncaring and cold all the time and give voice to his protective side. Come to think of it, perhaps it literally did, given what he knew about Kaonites. He caught the worried glance and decided to humor him.

“It is hardly there yet, Megatron…” – he smiled back happily – “I certainly don’t feel effects yet, so yes, I am completely fine.”

“You felt tired… inside.”

“Yes, the court was tiring – but it is my processor that feels like that, not my frame.”

“That was priceless, with Starscream!” – Megatron laughed, saying the compliment about the tenth time – “I’ve never seen him put to his place so thoroughly – without force anyway.”

“Yes, well. He deserved it.” – personally Optronix just wanted to forget about the obnoxious Seeker, but he saw how important it felt to his mate, so he played along.

But he liked it far more when Megatron turned more serious and the large servo gently slid over his middle, over the gestational chamber. Maybe it was make-believe, maybe it was sentimental – but he loved the protective, loving gesture, he loved to nestle into the larger frame without being afraid of it. He still felt the underlying power, the force, the strength in it – but it was now guarding him, not hurting. 

And that made all the difference in the world.


	13. Small steps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a long-long time I was able to pick up writing and continue a few of my old fics. I hope my readers are as happy about it as I am. :-)

Optronix could never believe that Megatron was capable of such… softness, he supposed he should call it, no matter that the Warlord would grumble and growl at the word, should he heard it – but yet there was definitely softness in his hard, red optics as far as the sparkling was its cause and goal. It was a strange, double sensation to feel Megatron handle him as a near equal, spar with him and ask his opinion in matters of the Kingdom and all the while be his usual, grouchy, dour, hard self – and he would suddenly turn into a puddle of goo when his optics focused onto his middle, where a barely noticeable swelling told only to the most observant mechs yet about his state of carrying. Okay, maybe a puddle of goo was an exaggeration, Optronix conceded, as he stroked the taloned servo nearest to him and smiled back to the suddenly very much not dour or hard optics.

But it was close. Optronix now couldn’t ask anything that he didn’t get in breems, a few joors at most if the item in question was a rarity or near impossible to find. Not that he asked for such items. Apparently Megatron threw most of the Kaonite societal rules out of the window and went to the other extreme than before in regards to Optronix and the sparkling. That it would be important, Optronix had known. That it would change his status and renown among the nobles, he had known as well and counted on it. That it would earn him Megatron’s attention and care he had hoped and it was proven as such. But it all went to an extent nearly embarrassing and definitely unexpected. 

Soundwave gave him advice how to deal with the less pleasant aspects of carrying – of which he so far had none but he appreciated the care all the same; and he also gave tips for Megatron about how to pamper and shower Optronix with gifts and attention. Even Dreadnought was somewhat less inimical towards him and occasionally even attempted a normal conversation, some small talk too. That he was even worse in that than Megatron didn’t deter Optronix to appreciate the effort and try to make the dour warrior somewhat sympathetic towards himself.

Eventually Megatron relented a bit and let them spar – though he was straining so tense at the edge of the training mat so nervously that both of them laughed a bit and the huge warrior went easy on him. In amusement probably, Optronix conceded and knowing that Megatron would give him back every scratch that he caused on the red-blue plating. None of them was happier than the Warlord when, in a few decaorns later Hook forbade him to spar with the larger mechs in fear of an accident. Though the still tiny, half-assembled protoform was in no way inhibiting his movements yet, but Optronix acquiesced gladly, knowing that it would give Megatron a little relief from his worries. With the acid rains coming, the party season started and he gladly immersed himself into the social side of Kaon, getting to know the noble families and hoping every time that he wouldn’t commit a faux pas while at it. 

“Thank you, Trimesh.”

Optronix accepted another cut glass of the sparking energon Megatron imported especially for him from the server mech. Since he was carrying, high-grade was out of question, but the fizzy, bubbly specialty of Praxus was perfect in parties. He noticed with some hidden amusement the Kaonite nobles trying it out, watching him as he sipped the drink from the tall, slender glass with obvious enjoyment, themselves staring at it like it was going to bite – and most of them pronouncing it undrinkable after a taste and unworthy for a warrior. Optronix refrained from laughing at them and directed the servers to offer them their favourites to wash down the taste.

“It appears a femme drink.”

Onslaught, one of Megatron’s generals growled thus after his taste and Optronix politely smiled up at the scowling strategist. It was still bothersome to be the smallest of the party, but he didn’t let it intimidate him any more.

“Please, don’t let Lord Strika hear that, General Onslaught.”

Megatron guffawed loudly and slapped Onslaught’s back.

“My mate has a point there, Ons! Strika would tie your barrels into a knot hearing such a sentiment!”

Onslaught quickly looked around for the formidable femme, and actually looked relieved that his thoughtless sentiment was not heard by her. 

“I wouldn’t call the Praxians femmes either.” – Optronix added, smiling – “They may look a bit silly with those elaborate doorwings, but there are warriors there too.”

He got a few nods from the collected Kaonites who stood around them in a loose circle. Praxus was not only a shrewdly maneuvering city-state in the diplomatic scene, but the Vosian sister-city was perfectly capable of defending its borders. 

“Praxians are good strategists, true.” – Astrotrain towered over even Kaonites and Optronix craned his neck to the tall triplechanger – “But individually… no. Break a doorwing and they are on the ground, screaming their vocalizers out.”

In Kaonite parties, topics of conversation inevitably turned onto matters of wars and fighting. Optronix sighed a bit inwardly, but kept up his interested façade.

“That’s why their main troops have their doorwings shortened.” – Onslaught added – “and they have wingless fighters too.”

“Mercenaries…” 

The sneer in Astrotrain’s tone was telling clearly what he thought of warriors fighting for a city-state not their own. Kaonites who did that lost their citizenships – but they were still popular as mercenaries and Praxus was a rich city, capable of allowing itself the expense of having Kaonite warriors and Vosian Seekers within its army. Optronix thought it fortunate that the two cities’ spheres of interest did not clash, being on the opposite side of the planet. Still, he heard and saw plans to conquer the city – Kaonites just couldn’t stop thinking about everyone on these terms, even though none of it was taken seriously. But for them it was just a pastime, like dancing was for Praxians and arts for Polyhexians…

“Iacon has mercenaries too and many of them are of Kaonite descent.”

“Well, Lord Magnus…” – Megatron’s tone held a barely concealed disdain as he said the designation of Optronix’s Sire – “… bargained for that and I have humoured him. It’s not our responsibility that he got the worst of those. The mech is a niggard.”

Optronix bowed his helm a little, not answering to that. He didn’t like his Sire, but it wouldn’t do to join to publicly exhorting him. Megatron must have noticed that he was undiplomatic again, because he hurried to ameliorate his words.

“Well, it is somewhat understandable anyhow. Iaconians are not much for fighting… with some exceptions of course.”

He held Optronix’s servo in his own, giving it a small squeeze. The assorted nobles around them looked on interested. The Iaconian Prince was still very much an unknown, despite of appearing more and more state functions.

“Lord Optronix… is perhaps practicing some sort of martial arts?” – Sixshot, another of the towering and dangerously looming mechs around enquired cautiously and a little unbelieving.

“Yes, I do. Lord Megatron was gracious to spar with me until the medic forbid such activities.”

There was no way to miss how proudly Megatron flared his armour and looked at his mate. The nobles glanced at each other at the new information and Optronix felt their measuring, judging glance slide up and down his frame. It was more than a bit uncomfortable, but he bore it with dignity. A low, warning growl issued from Megatron’s vocalizer, the warlord subconsciously sensing the interest in his mate and reacting appropriately. Optronix nearly laughed out relieved as the red stares snapped away from him and onto Megatron.

“It is… good to hear that the Carrier of the future Heir is… capable.” – Onslaught said cautiously and still a bit skeptical.

“Indeed it is… fortunate.” – Astrotrain added.

Several others, standing close spread the newest tidbit of information within the court and Optronix almost felt the sudden rise in approval towards him in the general feel of the room. He couldn’t help but feel proud of himself and what he felt through the bond added to his own feelings as well. 

“Though it would help to be a bit… bigger…” – Sixshot said thoughtfully. It wasn’t even disdaining, even Optronix could hear it from his tone, rather a true warrior’s assessment of advantages and disadvantages.

“My mate can more than make up for the size-difference. You should ask Dreadnought, he can adequately describe it.”

“There are some size differences one does not want to make up for.” – Optronix smirked mischievously at his somewhat shocked bondmate. The innuendo was clear and he saw several lip components around draw into smirks and smiles of various mirth. Even Megatron, after the initial shock, laughed with a distinctly lewd glance, obviously surprised at the openness with what he steered clear of the topic.

“As the results clearly show.” – quipped Sixshot and on this, they all laughed, before moving on to another group, where a slightly different version of the conversation repeated all over again.

In a few joors, Optronix became quite tired of making small talk, of navigating on verbal minefields and mostly of craning his neck upwards all the time. Megatron caught the feel in the bond, and nodded to him, starting to take their leave from the party. It was another successful hurdle for Optronix, another group of Kaonites who accepted him, some even respected him now. It was still hard work, to learn their designations, functions, keep in mind the Kaonite customs and try to make them more accepting of him. But it was necessary and he was doing it gladly. A thousand times more this than locked away in a secure set of rooms alone, even though Megatron would have liked to do it again, this time for the safety of the sparkling.

Because the Warlord became incredibly nervous and worried about the sparkling and its continuing wellbeing, so much so that it even caught the attention of others, mainly his brothers’. No matter how many checkups Hook did, no matter how safe he made the Consort’s quarters and the places he frequented, no matter that Optronix was perfectly healthy and his line famous for bearing sparklings easily – he was, as time went by and the small bump on Optronix’s middle slowly grew, increasingly paranoid of anything going bad.

“You don’t have to be so tense, Megatron.”

Large arms tightened around him for a nanoklik before Megatron remembered his own strength and guilt suffused his field. Optronix smiled and reassured him through the bond that nothing untoward have happened, luxuriating in the feeling of safety as much as the connection, the sharing that the bond meant. It was finally, after all, everything he had dreamed of – a loving mate, a sparkling whose first flashes of emotions they have just started to catch and the acceptance of a harsh, hard country that he came to love. Kaon, once he could see it was beautiful too; in a wholly different way than Iacon’s softer, kinder beauty, but still very much to his liking. 

“By the way… where is Winglord Starscream? I believe I haven’t seen him at the last few receptions.”

“The glitch is gone…” – Megatron answered, lazy satisfaction colouring his tone and the bond – “…and good riddance I say.”

“I hope it is nothing I caused…? I wouldn’t want Kaon and Vos to become enemies…” – Optronix chewed his lips in apprehension.

“Don’t worry about him, Optronix. He’s got what he deserved and it is nothing Soundwave can’t handle.”

Optronix snuggled into the embrace, his apprehension mostly alleviated. But instead, his curiosity has awakened…

“Did he go back to Vos? He appeared to be nearly living in Kaon. I wonder why…”

Megatron scowled, but held back his annoyance with the Seeker. He didn’t particularly wanted to talk about the Winglord, but since they had no secrets now from each other, he could feel Optronix’s innocent curiosity.

“Well… he needs a mate. A consort and offspring. He’s been ruling Vos for a long time and he still has no heir. The Vosian Elders are worried, because there aren’t so many nobles on Cybertron who are fliers too and Starscream made it clear that he didn’t care about the eligible Vosians.”

Optronix looked at him interested.

“What about his trine-mates? Are they not his bondmates too?”

“No. Not for this anyway. Even if his trinemates spark him up - or he sparks them up for that matter - those sparklings could never be Winglord. Thundercracker is only a minor noble, and Skywarp is a commoner – if not for Starscream, he would be a beggar far below the Vosian spires.”

“I see… well, at least he was not snobbish to choose them as trine.”

“No, he personally doesn’t really care for nobility. But for an heir – he must.”

“So he wanted to find a mate in Kaon?”

“Yes. Not many of the city-states have fliers, but in Kaon, most of the nobles have more or less Vosian ancestry. The two cities have always been close and intermarriages were always common. If he doesn’t find a noble flier, this is acceptable for him too. The sparklings, some of them anyway would have wings at least if he gets enough Seeker coding while he carries.”

Optronix nodded, understanding the unspoken – that Starscream was in Kaon first and foremost for the ruling family and especially for Megatron, like many of his ancestors, bonding with the allied city’s ruling mechs.

“Like you.” – he stated softly, digits drawing circles over the Warlord’s chestplates.

“Like me. Or my brothers. But mainly me.” – Megatron looked serious as he held his newly found mate close – “It’s never worked out between us. Starscream… has no concept of loyalty or even fidelity.”

“He… he cheated you?”

Megatron’s snort was dark and holding a long-buried hurt. Optronix sent soothing waves through the bond and was rewarded by a small, fanged smile.

“Worse. He tried to deceive me, betrayed my trust and schemed against me. It is not a nice story.” – unspoken was the plea not to ask more and Optronix acquiesced. He was curious, but he didn’t want to tear old wounds open.

“So, why did you let him stay then?”

“Politics…” – Megatron’s grimace told everything – “Even though he is totally unsuitable as a mate, a union between our kingdoms would still be advantageous. As my brothers all have Seeker ancestry too, he tried to gain one of their servos for a bond. From all of them, he is closest to Shockwave, as they share a passion for sciences, but their natures made that match an impossibility too. Shockwave is logical to the fault, while Starscream… is unpredictable.”

Optronix could only stare and drink in the story as Megatron slowly told him, snuggling in comfortably between the large arms. He hardly even remembered his fears and hurt – Hook told him that it was a defensive mechanism and he should tell if or when anything awakened anything bad immediately. So far nothing did and Optronix didn’t question his luck.

“And if not that, Kaon still have a few high-ranking triplechangers and nobles with some Vosian ancestry. As Starscream’s options start to run out, he must set his criteria lower.”

“But then… why did he go away?”

“After such a humiliation? He had lost a lot of face and a lot of prospects too. And he is proud. Immensely proud with a long memory. He will stay away until the story settles down and then…” – Megatron shrugged – “…either he comes back or not. At this point, I could do without his glitchy, sneaking self. It is safer if he is not plotting around.”

“Or more dangerous…” – Optronix couldn’t help but feel some apprehension. After all, it was him, who harmed the renown of the proud Winglord, humiliated him in front of the whole court, made his prospects of a mate next to impossible – and he had just learned that the Seeker never forgot a slight.

“He can’t harm you. He wouldn’t dare anyway. I won’t let him!”

Megatron embraced Optronix fully, careful, as always not to hurt the younger mech. His touches slowly became more heated, stroking Optronix’s side and back, detailing the red-blue form with precision and passion. Soon enough Optronix’s vents picked up the tempo too, expelling hot air and he squirmed in the embrace, forgetting his questions that suddenly didn’t seem important. The hold wasn’t uncomfortable, not in the very least – but he, too wanted to have a go at Megatron’s seams. A deep, rumbling laugh shook him to the core as the fanged, scarred lipplates descended onto his and Optronix forgot his plans in the strut-melting intensity of the deep, slow kiss. 

He rubbed his panel on Megatron’s frame insistently and was rewarded by it too becoming heated – and if the bond was anything to go by, uncomfortably tight. Megatron nearly purred, if such a deep sound could be called that and lifted Optronix a little, the smaller mech kneeling astride on his strong thighs. A snickt sounded from underneath him, and Optronix felt the warlord’s half-pressurized spike rising between them, his own panel sliding aside in tandem, revealing his plenty lubricated valve. Megatron didn’t let go of his mouth and as they continued to kiss, Optronix reached down by feel, gripping the shaft and spreading some of his lubricant on it. He felt Megatron straining not to thrust up, into his valve, but the warlord somehow held himself back, only giving in to small twitches in his now fully hardened spike. 

For a fleeting nanoklik Optronix wondered how much it changed that their interfaces were fully consensual now – certainly none of their equipment changed, Megatron didn’t get any smaller, himself didn’t acquired a new valve – and still, since the time of their first merge, it never hurt to take his bondmate’s massive spike. In fact it became better and better every time they fragged… and that was the point he got to in his musings, when his thought process was thoroughly derailed by said spike’s rounded head bumping gently into his valve rim, setting off a few dozen sensors there like wildfire.

His arms now around Megatron’s shoulders, Optronix gave a small roll of his hips to signal his readiness and slowly sank down. The stretch, as always, was exquisite, bordering on pain, but the slow, gentle impalement never reached that point to become hurting. Instead it lit up his valve sensors one by one until his processor spun helplessly in the onslaught of pleasure… he was panting now into Megatron’s neck, their kiss ending sometime, he couldn’t tell when, but it wasn’t important as Megatron’s lipplates closed on his antenna and _ohmyprimus_ , his glossa swirled around the highly sensitive rod and it was pure bliss on top of the incredible pleasure from his valve…

Megatron growled and somehow, that sound travelled across his frame and grounded itself from antenna-tip down to the bottom of his pedes and he gave a small, experimental thrust upwards. Optronix greeted the thrust with a moan of his own, unable to utter anything more coherent than a wordless _yesyesyespleasemore_. But it was enough and in the fully open bond he felt Megatron loosening up and his pleasure slammed into him from that way too and he ground his frame down as the next thrust came and fed him back the reassurance of his own bliss…

His digits scrabbled onto silvery chest-plates, wanting to feel his mate even closer than the bond and Megatron slowed his thrusts again, opening himself up, Optronix’s spark eagerly, nearly jumping out to meet the larger orb. Their energies roiled and twinned, tendrils playing with each other, sensations swirling around them as they nearly became one, feeling each other’s emotions, hearing their thoughts, feeling the other’s sensations… Optronix felt what it was like to thrust into a tight, silky hot, wet valve… Megatron marveled how amazing a stiff, hot rod showed up into it felt… they both groaned as their conjoined pleasure nearly became too much.

And in the midst of the mind-boggling, indescribable pleasure came the sensation of a little tendril of flame separate from their own, a small, but distinct ball of energy that rode the roiling energies around their merging sparks and its not-yet self-aware, but already curious presence soaked up their coding, their spark-frequencies, their selves – to knit them and match them and make it its own. It was incredibly precious and frighteningly fragile – even in the midst of pleasure, Optronix felt Megatron’s fierce protectiveness and his own unconditional love for it that made the little flameling twist and roll with nonverbal, wordless, joyful happiness around them…

Physical pleasure peaked when the spike deep inside him erupted and flooded his constricting valve with transfluid; and their sparks flared with all the collected energies, that seemed to reach out, into all his extremities, scouring his relays and sensors with pure bliss. They shouted too, a deeper roar intermingled with a lighter scream, their sparks echoing the names within each other as they slowly, hesitantly parted. One last stroke of the small, happy bundle of energy and Megatron’s spark slowly retreated, back into its chamber, its usual, dour seriousness tempered with Optronix’s lightness, his joy and curiosity… just as he had left his mark on the lighter blue orb.

Slowly, they became again two separate entities, two mechs, albeit tightly embraced and conjoined still. Vents panted and spat shimmering hot air into the room. Plates cooled pinging and settled from being flared to their capacity. A blue digit doodled aimlessly on silver plating, not yet ready to move, to sit up, to slide off the now limp spike… and Megatron felt perfectly content to hold his mate in his arms, be sappy and sentimental and fluffy and… and whatever Dreadnought wanted to call it when he sneered at his brother for becoming… mushy.

They stayed that way for breems afterward, neither of them wanting to break that nearly perfect moment. It was the comm that finally broke their bubble and made Optronix rise snickering from his slumped, embraced and impaled position. It was his comm and very few mechs called him still these orns, so he was curious. He was also nearly unable to stand on shaking legs, as he discovered, when he rose and Megatron’s deeper laugh joined his mirth as he tried to walk towards the communications console but managed a stumbling waddle instead, leaning on furniture heavily.

“Optronix, you’ll damage yourself if you fall.” – Megatron paused and his smirk coloured his tone as he continued – “… but I must admit you look a fine sight. I hope it is your Sire who calls.”

Optronix snickered again and dragged himself to the chair in front of the console, nearly falling into it. Any caller should only see his shoulders and up and that should be… safe. Unless of course the berth was in the line of the pickup… but no, he checked and it wasn’t.

“He would totally deserve to see it.” 

The call connected quickly, and Optronix was greeted with the visage of his favourite brother.

“Jazz! I’m so glad to see you!”

“Likewise, Opty, likewise.” – Jazz’s optics narrowed for a nanoklik and Optronix blushed, however he tried to repress the reaction. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to receive the call so quickly? Maybe he had some mark that gave away what they were up to? But Jazz just nodded his helm to the side and continued.

“Is it all right to talk now…?”

“Yes, yes, of course! I’m always happy to talk with you, Jazz! I see you little enough as it is.”

“Fancy you mentioning this… because we are going to visit you soon. That’s why I called, Ultra Magnus allowed it and I wouldn’t miss the opportunity for a world!”

“Jazz! Ohh, really? I’m so, so, so happy! How did you manage to convince Sire? And who is coming, when? Tell me everything, Jazz!”

“I’ll have to contact to Lord Megatron as to the when, but it’ll be me and Hot Rod, with an entourage of course.”

“Roddy! Jazz, I’m amazed! How did you convince Sire to let him go?”

“Uhm, that… he wants Roddy to catch a bondmate there too as he had refused all Sire tried to force on him. I have…” – Jazz looked faintly displeased for a klik – “… I have _instructions_. Who is suitable and who is not… that kind.”

Though Jazz appeared to be an easygoing and carefree mech, Optronix knew that he was caring about all of them deeply, deeper than their Sire himself and he has always acted like he was the eldest instead of Sentinel, who only cared for himself. 

“Rodimus is still too young for bonding.” – Optronix frowned – “But I guess it is an improvement that Sire lets him find a mate instead of selling him out … umm.”

“I know, Opty, I know. So that’s the big news. In probably a few decaorns, we will be there and talk freely about… everything. Right?”

“Of course, Jazz. I can hardly wait to see you. And Roddy! I still can’t believe Sire let him travel.”

“It might be the reason that he is otherwise occupied.” – Jazz rolled his optics exasperated and Optronix’ curiosity rose up.

“What do you mean? Is he planning something?”

“Planning? When is he NOT planning something? But in fact it is a high-ranking guest who is taking up his interest now.”

Optronix smiled slighty. The Primes being a fertile family, most of Iacon’s rulers had a particular hobby of finding suitable bondmates to their various sons, cousins, nephews and such; and Ultra Magnus was no exception to this custom. The Iacon court has always been like a bonding market as much as he remembered it, with foreign dignitaries, nobles and rulers flirting and courting the various members of the abundant royal family.

“Who is it this time?” – Optronix laughed easily – “The Lord of Praxus wanting to buy his newest consort?”

“Nah, even more exotic!” – Jazz grinned – “The Winglord Starscream it is, using the new peace-treaty to prowl here. Or I should say flit around, considering what he is...”

Optronix’s smile suddenly froze. Though it shouldn’t be anything of a problem, still a bad premonition rose in his spark.

“Who is he interested in?”

“I’m not sure yet… he is making rounds in the court, but hasn’t approached any mech in particular. Sire tried to foist Rodimus on him, but he wasn’t interested, and that’s why he can come with me to Kaon.”

Well, that was one particular worry down from his spark. Rodimus was a peculiar mech and Optimus didn’t want to see him in an unhappy, forced bond. He would react explosively and it would end in a tragedy.

“Jazz, if you know anything, and I mean anything about his target, please contact me at once!”

“Sure, Opty, why not? Is he trouble?”

“He’s caused trouble here already. He is sneaky and has reason to hate me. I’m sure he has a hidden motive in going to Iacon.”

Jazz turned serious and nodded.

“Will do, Opty. I’ll keep an optic on him… and find somemech to do so while I’m away.”

“Thanks, Jazz. It is… important. And I’m looking forward to see you here!”

“Me to, kid, me too.” – Jazz smiled back to him before terminating the contact.

Optronix stood and on much firmer legs went back to the berth, where Megatron awaited for him. He heard the whole conversation and had a little frown on his brow-plates too about Starscream. He hugged Optronix close and whispered into his audial.

“I’ll ask Soundwave to keep a few optics on him too. We won’t let him plot unchecked.”

Optronix smiled back, worried, but also elated by Jazz and Rodimus coming to visit. It would be great and he wouldn’t let his worries spoil the event. Nestling himself back into the silvery embrace they continued to talk about possibilities and plans of their own.


	14. In Motion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm truly, really sorry that it took so long to continue this fic! Thank you for all who waited and still around to enjoy this. I had a lot to do and important IRL things, but that's not an good excuse - I should have paid more attention to my old fics than writing new ones. It's always a struggle to balance the two. 
> 
> Another note: this chapter drastically changes the so far Optronix-centered fic as I couldn’t write the events in Iacon from his POV – he is simply not there, and I didn’t want to leave Starscream’s actions out of the story.

Music floated under the arches of the Iacon Palace, weaved its curly path around the tall pillars holding them up, high even over the tallest mechs’ helm who moved around in the decorated chambers. The musicians themselves were hidden among the high balconies while the floor was crowded with the usual throng of mechs in the Iacon court, waiting for the king to make his appearance and amusing themselves with juicy gossip and delicious food while he was fashionably late. 

For Starscream, the enormous place was hopelessly divided up by the fragging abundance of slender pillars, false walls and ubiquitous statues, hardly leaving a continuous, free stretch of space which he was used to – even in Kaon, the Palace chamber was larger than this and he felt less… closed in. It was fortunately tall enough not to be claustrophobic, but the lack of open, uninterrupted space was still strange. Though… he had to admit, the myriad half-hidden corners made it an excellent location to plot and secretly meet with mechs in plain sight. Iaconians apparently thrived on such courtly intrigues and had he known it before, he would have made peace with Ultra Magnus far earlier. The Seeker Winglord loved plotting and scheming with a passion and he has never even denied it. The Iacon court was definitely to his liking.

_::TC, catch me that mech. Black with green trim, ridiculous crest::_

A talon flickered apparently randomly while he continued to smirk at the smaller Iaconian he was smoothly conversing with about the peculiarities of Vosian high-grade and its appeal to grounder frames. It might or might not result in a trade agreement, but he wasn’t all that sold on the necessity of it. Seekers never craved being rich as much as other kind of mechs from different city-states appeared to. The conversation was fairly much just a cover for what he really wanted to do.

Behind him a set of blue wings flicked with an apology very few present understood and Thundercracker stepped aside from his customary position, nodded towards the Iaconians and was gone behind a pillar in a sparkbeat. Starscream revised his opinion about the place upwards slightly. In Vos, in his Aerie court every mech present would have noticed the Winglord’s Second leaving his side and the goal of his leaving would be the topic for joors. Here? Even his immediate conversation partners just smiled politely and ignored it. But then… grounders never seemed to catch the importance of trine-mates. TC complained good-naturedly more than once of being taken for mere bodyguards by even high-ranking mecha.

_::he’ll be in the green salon in three breems.::_ \- Thundercracker notified him soon, adding the whereabouts of the place.

“I’m afraid I must leave now, gentlemechs. It was a pleasure to talk and I hope we can return to the subject again.”

“Of course, Winglord Starscream. It was our pleasure.”

Starscream glided from his spot with Skywarp in tow, moving in the crowd with a smile or nod to some mecha, making it look like he was just making lazy rounds… but in fact he was getting closer to his target with each step without calling any undue attention to himself. Of course some attention he could never avoid – but the Winglord has long ago learned to deflect that and appear careless, unconcerned. He lifted off a slender cup from a serving mech’s tray, sipping the weak, fizzy energon and leaned to one of the pillars. 

A blue wingtip flashed in one of the doorways and Starscream moved again, slipping behind the decorative false wall of crystal growths. By the time he stepped into the half-hidden little saloon, the energon cup was in Skywarp’s servo, guarding the door behind him with the same nonchalance Starscream displayed before. The salon was green all right. Optic-searing green, he might say, the sneer pulling the corner of his mouthplates. Grounders sometimes lacked any aesthetic sense Primus gave to simple drones… hence the orange, _pink!_ and now green rooms he had to endure. But it fit the mech who was waiting for him sitting in a comfortable armchair, a gesture offering him the backless seating Seekers preferred. 

“I am honored by your interest, Winglord. How may I help you?”

Starscream hesitated for a nanoklik. The mech sitting opposite was more dangerous than he looked and he needed his knowledge. Would he give it and for how much… it was anymech’s guess. The previous enquiries by comm and text were unsuccessful as the Iaconian refused to answer by any means that could be traced.

“I heard that you know the royal family like no other. I require… information.”

The noblemech didn’t betray with movement whether or if he found the request strange. He continued to smile serenely at the Seeker and Starscream cursed his own frame which, no matter the extensive training he had, could never be so still and cryptic, revealing none of his emotions. No Seeker could fully control their wings and though few grounders could read them, this one might just be one. Spec Ops mechs were… not to be underestimated. This one probably knew how important the topic was to him. 

“Information like that is freely available in the library, Lord Starscream. I’m afraid you don’t need insignificant little me to divulge this.”

Starscream didn’t mind if the grounder could read the rude twitch of his wings now. Thundercracker has perused the publicily available information already and found nothing more than teasingly small clues to what he was seeking.

“I’m sure a mech _like you_ can tell me more. I wouldn’t be… ungrateful.” 

“My Lord must understand where my loyalties lie.” – the answering tone was just a tad bit more frosty than before, though he continued to smile politely.

Starscream scowled. He either found the only loyal mech in the Iacon Palace – or he was trying to make his price higher. Flicking his wings impatiently he countered.

“It’s not like I want you to betray your Lord! I need only information. Not even sensitive one!”

“Such as…?” – the mech still looked calm, vary but a little more open than before – “Information can be a weapon too.”

“Not this!” – Starscream stopped before his voice became screeching, betraying his desperation – “I need to know if there are really fliers here or it is just a myth!”

The black and green mech stilled, one brow-plate lifting in a rare, uncontrolled display of surprise. He obviously didn’t expect this question and it took him a few kliks to decide his next words.

“Fliers…? There are indeed… some fliers in the Palace. It is no secret....”

“Not those wretches!” – Starscream managed to stomp while sitting – “In the royal family!”

“Ohh…! I see.” – he looked thoughtful – “I’m afraid that is… classified.”

“So there are some!” 

“I didn’t say there aren’t. But you would have to take this question to Lord Ultra Magnus.”

“I won’t have him hoist one on me before I know why they are so hidden. It’s no secret that I seek a consort, but I won’t have a flawed one. I must know more of him… or them? Before I commit myself to negotiations.”

Starscream cursed himself for being so honest with this mech, a spec ops one, but it seemed to work. Flashlight stared at him again with those disturbing green-blue optics before nodding to himself and answering.

“I believe it is not harmful for the kingdom if you know a bit more…”

Starscream barely made it back to the throne-room before Ultra Magnus made his entrance and he seriously hoped that not many understood why his wings fluttered so excitedly. Flashlight, after some persuasion and promises provided him not only with information, but an opportunity as well. The Seeker had no doubt that the noblemech has contacted his superiors with his enquiry, but as far as it wasn’t official, he could deny anything. He followed the large and pompous grounder’s entrance with little attention – it was hard to believe that this stiff, formal mech produced some of his offspring. Like Prince Jazz, but even Optronix was a far cry from the lumbering giant of a grounder. Must have taken more after their carrier, he supposed. Small wonder that the King did not like them and made no secret of it.

Though the Seeker could hardly imagine not loving any offspring of himself - should he ever got around having any – but grounders appeared to be a little less… committed to their creations. No matter, he thought, it might make it easier to negotiate when or if he found what he was looking for. The rest of the court went by as a blur to him, impatient to get on with his own plans, but as a visiting ruler himself, he could not of course just leave unnoticed, once the king was gracing the court with his presence. It was an elaborate dance, one that Starscream sometimes enjoyed, but mostly he felt it as a waste of time. Ceremony didn’t even had a chance for scheming… or anything else useful. 

A joor later he was standing on a small balcony, deep in the Palace, in a section he hasn’t seen yet, waiting impatiently. Hidden by the latticework of the balcony edge, he was checking out from time to time the small courtyard below – so far empty and Starscream’s never too strong patience was fraying at the edges. He was already annoyed by having to leave Skywarp behind, but to wait for so long was unaccep…

There they came. 

A group of mechs, loud, raucously loud tumbled out from a doorway, and for a few kliks Starscream was hard put to determine just how many and who they were. Then the wings coalesced from the tangle of limbs and plates and the Seeker’s attention focused again, eager to see every detail. The frames separated somewhat though the noise, the many-toned laughs and indistinct shouts didn’t abate; one larger framed than the rest, one smaller even than himself and three that looked nearly Seekers for their configuration. All five had wings, though not the same type. According to the information he gained, all were distant cousins in the royal family, therefore acceptable for him… or rather for the Elders who insisted on such things. 

He ignored the large one immediately. A Winglord’s Consort should not tower over him by half and Starscream personally hated to have to look up to any mech since Megatron. He behaved like he was a leader of sorts for his brothers, possibly by seniority or temperament, as the other four were far more raucous and playful. All of them terribly young if his info was to be believed and unfortunately all of them acting their actual age too. Not necessarily an insurmountable hurdle, but he didn’t want to look like a crèche-robber taking one or two into the Vosian court. His Consort should have to behave like a Seeker, not a… silly mechling. Though they were all definitely in their adult frame, which was something of a mystery for the watching Seeker. 

Starscream chewed his lipplates as he watched the five mechs play rambunctiously, his wings flinching a little at each youngish shriek and giggle. There was something… faintly wrong with the picture, something he couldn’t quite put his digit on but which caused his wings to tremble uncertainly and his armor fluff out disturbed. He drew his brow plates together and tried to track down the source of his unease.

_::Star.::_

_::What, TC? I’m busy!::_

_::They are on the ground.::_

_::So?::_

_::Fliers. Playing on the ground. Not once jumping in the air.::_

Thundercracker was right, Starscream suddenly realized. He was watching the scene too and the more serious of his wingmates saw the problem first. The young fliers’ wings flapped and flared, twitched and moved aplenty as they played, talking like wings should, though quite erratically and in a dialect Starscream didn’t quite caught – but none of them took to the air even though it should have been instinctual for the game of tag they were playing. Not one turbine growled or whined in an effort to lift their frames to gain advantage. Not one pede left the ground, not even for a jump. 

_::They play like grounders.::_

Starscream’s answer was a string of foul curses in at least three languages, which Thundercracker didn’t even try to deign with answer.

_::Probably raised by grounders, to be like them.::_

_::Primus bedamned, rust-processored, wingless idiots!::_

_::They are not too old yet. They can learn yet.::_

_::Flying will never be instinctual to them.::_

Starscream fumed silently. Here were a couple of Princes, perfectly formed for his needs, carrying the proper CNA for wings, their Sire willing to negotiate with him – and they were inherently flawed by stupid grounders raising them in their ways. It would take vorns before he would dare to bring one to Vos and that was the best case scenario. Could they fly at all?

He saw one of the younglings, red mostly and white look up to his hiding place. Innocent blue optics searched the shadows for the flash of light on his wing, but Starscream drew back, into the darker corner. He wasn’t sure it was a good idea or not to invest time and effort into these… flawed fliers. 

_::If nothing else, they have good lineage and CNA; and we can train the one you choose to behave properly.::_

Thundercracker was pragmatic, sometimes too much so for Starscream’s taste. He scowled, but had to concede his wingmate’s point.

_::And if not, I can still screw with them a little to show to that stuck-up brother of theirs.”_

_::Star… Optronix didn’t do anything wrong…::_

_::He humiliated me! ME!::_

_::Megatron did that. And not for the first time either. Be angry at him, but not that youngster. I got the feeling he was pretty much Megs’ victim, though I’m not sure why he defended the mech.::_

_::Anyway… so you say I should pursue one of… these?::_

_::Unless you want to leave Iacon with another failure… the Council won’t be patient forever.::_

Starscream fumed silently, but Thundercracker was right, he should show at least an attempt to those ancient wretches with crumbling wings and senile processors. They were berating him enough for staying outside Vos for as much as he dared to… and still not have a suitable Consort for all his gallivanting all over Cybertron. They had the right to demand an Heir and for that to force him to accept one of the slagging nobles of their choosing. Eventually. Which would be unacceptable.

_::Let’s see if Flashlight can manage arranging a meeting with them. Separately.::_

_::I’ll get right to it.::_

 

-o-o-o-

Optronix stood beside Megatron in the Kaon castle’s main courtyard in the early cycle fresh breeze, his excitement hardly allowing him to stand sill. It was the farthest his suddenly overprotective mate allowed him to go from the secure chambers, though the young mech would have dearly loved to greet Jazz and his company as soon as they entered Kaon. He heard the commotion and the noises that the breeze brought as the Iaconian caravan slowly negotiated the streets of Kaon, coming closer and closer slowly. 

Around them about a hundred guards stood in high alert – and some more flew patrols overhead in a cacophony of turbines and engines; while many of the nobles and Megatron’s brothers were also armed and ready. The more his carrying progressed, the more protective – and somewhat paranoid – they all became about it. The brief time of his relatively free roaming of the castle and Kaon was gone again – though Megatron did everything so he wouldn’t feel a prisoner ever again, it was still confining. Even just coming out to the main courtyard of the castle required several orns’ worth of securing the place, scouring out every window opening to the plaza, screening every mech who could be present and cramming as much guards in there as was possible. In the end, Orion nearly regretted wanting to go out there.

But finally the great, embellished gates opened and the far more colourful Iaconian delegation started to stream in, further raising the crowded feel of the place. The gate guards screened the lower ranking Iaconians who headed the delegation one by one, filtering them through their ranks, leading them away subtly, until only the nobles and the Princes were allowed to get close to Kaon’s rulers. It all appeared chaotic to Optronix, but in fact it was done professionally and swiftly, while being completely serious and devoted wholly to the protecting part.

Finally black and white plating appeared, Jazz nearly dancing in happiness as he caught sight of his brother – and Optronix caught the small shock from his bondmate at the smallness of the Iaconian Prince. Jazz was the smallest of his brothers by far and the most exuberant; he nearly jumped into Optronix’s neck when they got close enough, eliciting a low, small growl from Megatron.

“Jazz!”

“Opty! I’m soooo glad to see you again!”

Optronix smiled happily but nudged Jazz to stop embracing him – Megatron’s emotions that came through the bond were turning decidedly stormy as another mech, no matter the relation, was touching his consort – and turned him towards his jealous-protective mate.

“My Lord, this is Prince Jazz, my brother.”

Megatron nearly growled, but fortunately Jazz took the hint and let Optronix go, turning to the Kaonite Lord a little sheepishly. 

“Lord Megatron. I’m so glad that you let us visit Kaon. I apologize for my… exuberance in greeting Lord Optronix.”

Jazz could behave like a Prince, Optronix knew. He just most often choose not to. Not many who saw the small, quicksilver mech believed him to be the second most senior among the brothers after Sentinel – the mech just didn’t look like so and rarely ever acted like so. That Jazz’s behaviour was both an armour of protection from their Sire’s overbearing personality and an act to take care and help all his younger brothers, Optronix learned early and came to appreciate very much. It should have been Sentinel, but then, he was too much like their Sire to take his brothers’ side ever. 

“And this is Prince Hot Rod, Lord Megatron.”

The garishly painted young mech was nudged to come forward and Hot Rod didn’t disappoint him… 

“Hi, Lord Megatron! I heard Kaon is nice this time of the vorn! I was so glad that I could see Kaonites, you do sound amazing in the stories…”

Optronix wanted to facepalm and kept his smile on by force of will. Megatron observed the red and orange mech with raised brow-plates, like he would a colourful bug, but inside he was laughing. Jazz managed to look flustered.

_::Is he always like this?::_

_::Yes. Unfortunately. Any effort to make him serious is a waste of time::_

“It is an honour to have you here, Princes. I’ll let you take your chambers and refresh after the journey. There will be a feast later and…”

“Umm, there’s some more, Lord Megatron… Optronix…”

Jazz looked a bit nervous interrupting the Kaon ruler, and Megatron did look displeased, drawing Optronix instinctively close to him.

“What… more?”

“We are very sorry, ‘cause it was just about the two of us… but we have discovered some, ummm, stowaways with the entourage only when we were nearly here…”

As Jazz was babbling, it took mere kliks for Optronix to realize what he was talking about. Where Jazz went, there was little chance to keep the twins behind, and virtually none since they were adults and went wherever they pleased. Blue optics searched the caravan for the telltale flashes of red and gold and he projected some happy, calming influence to his displeased bondmate too. He shouted happily when he caught their distinctive colours…

“Sunstreaker! Sideswipe!”

Megatron looked torn between angry and exasperated.

“More siblings…?”

“Well… yes.”

Red optics swept over the red and gold frames and Optronix caught a little thread of approval in the bond too. The twins were both larger and stronger than himself and despite of their youth and flashy paint-jobs, they carried themselves like warriors. Which they were in reality… when Sideswipe wasn’t planning any mischief, that is or Sunstreaker didn’t have a painting spell. The twins haven’t really decided what to do with themselves yet, but even Ultra Magnus saw that bonding them off somewhere would only work if it was the two of them together. Split sparks had a mixed renown among the kingdoms. 

“I welcome you too, Princes.”

Optronix twitched at the smirk Sideswipe gave to the Kaonites. It didn’t bode well for the peace of the Palace… such as it was with all that was going on. But he forced a smile on his face and hugged them both. 

“Please… behave for me, okay? They… I think they don’t take pranks well.”

His whispered plea into Sideswipe’s audial was greeted by a half-honest nod – it was the most he could expect from his younger brother. Optronix sighed and told Megatron a quiet ‘later’, before the whole procession filtered back into the Palace. He could only hope that Sideswipe didn’t have time for a prank before the evening’s grand feast. Or during that. Oh Primus, he hoped the red mech didn’t cause any incidents during the state dinner! 

“You certainly have an… _interesting_ family.”

Megatron grumbled to him later in their rooms, while the servants were getting them ready for the dinner. It involved far too much cleaning, waxing, polishing and decorations than either of them felt comfortable with, but protocol was apparently a bigger authority on maters of state than even Megatron himself. Optronix smiled at his bondmate – and wasn’t that still strange to think him so? – and answered with a little chuckle.

“It has never been boring while we grew up.”

“And your… Jazz has an attitude too.”

“Ohhh…?”

“He had the gall to find me and warn me about treating you properly.”

Megatron’s tone was gruff, but his lips held a tiny little smirk too. It was almost funny being threatened by somemech barely reaching his waist but shocking in a way as well. The small Iaconian delivered his warnings in a way that made the size difference completely irrelevant and for that Megatron gave credit for the smaller mech. It took serious bolts to stand up to the warrior ruler of Kaon and he detected no fear at all in the small Prince’s field or demeanor. 

Optronix hugged himself and tried not to remember the previous vorns that Megatron’s casual words brought up. They were behind him. He didn’t so much forgot them as much as tried not to think of it. It changed and Megatron changed too, for the better. They moved past it and loved each other now. More or less. He tried to keep his sudden unease out of the bond.

“Jazz has looked out for all of us when it became clear that Sentinel… wouldn’t.”

But apparently he wasn’t quite successful in that. Megatron turned suddenly and frowned.

“I… kinda deserved that, am I? But I don’t need his warning any more.”

“I know… Jazz is… perceptive. I didn’t tell anything… but I think he has his suspicions.”

“I see.”

It was obvious that Megatron didn’t like anymech knowing his shameful handling of his bonding… and his bondmate, but he bore it with a little ill grace. 

“By the way, I have to say that Sideswipe is… umm… a prankster. He loves causing mischief. I hope… I hope none of your warriors will react to him… umm… fatally?”

Megatron took the change of topic gratefully and his lipplates twitched in amusement.

“Don’t worry. Starscream have a wingmate like him. Since his first visit here, my guards and courtiers have standing orders not to deactivate anymech of royal blood even for serious pranks or offenses.”

Optronix stared back with wide optics, a bit frightened by a place where such a thing had to be a royal decree - instead it being common sense and civility – but a bit relieved that Sideswipe wouldn’t be harmed even if he tried something. Or at least not seriously. He still fretted until the time of the dinner came, sure that his prankster brother would try something silly or stupid… and the more time he took the more elaborate it would be. 

-o-o-o-

It wasn’t easy to separate the group of fliers – obviously siblings and very close to each other - and meet with one of them alone. The big one, Silverbolt insisted on come with his brother too but Starscream wouldn’t suffer a chaperone… especially not the tenth of age as himself. And he definitely wasn’t interested in the Aerialbots’ (what a designation, Starscream scowled) leader. He stalked the meager length of the room in a distant corner of the sprawling Palace, unable to sit or even stand still while waiting for his… companion to arrive at last. Thundercracker was sprawled comfortably in a sofa and Skywarp was by the window, commenting scathily on the passersbys and if Starscream knew him well, also idly plotting practical jokes on them. While his teleporting wingmate could be a vicious warrior if he choose to be, pranking was what passed for a hobby for him and Starscream let him nearly free reins in it. 

The door opened at last and Flashlight ushered a visibly nervous, young mech inside, nodding to Starscream and motioning them towards each other. “Lord Starscream, Prince Fireflight. I’ll be back in half a joor.” And he was gone, the door shut behind him. In a way it was interesting how the rest of the royal family appeared to worry less about them being alone with the Winglord than their eldest brother. That, or the room was observed covertly.

Red-striped white wings flared in an instinctive display of _pride/strength/dominance_ and Starscream stared at the young mech, eagerly drinking in the details, from red-white plating – _suitably complementing his own scheme, no clash of colours_ – the light gray face with nervously fluttering, wide blue optics – _adequate, if a bit too open and revealing_ – and the stiff white wings that were both what he had wanted to see, but at the same time… - _awful configuration, he would never be able to talk with them like this_ – and Starscream didn’t bother to put the nervous mech at ease or give him the respect he really should for a royal prince. He was here to get a consort not to dally with courting. He almost grabbed the wing, but that would be not only disrespectful, but outright crass… though this almost-grounder would probably not understand it, but his trinemates, who were now watching and listening, would.

“Can you fly at all?”

Blue optics snapped to his own, meeting with the red gaze and Starscream was dismayed by the total lack of anger at the incredibly rude question he blurted out, only half meaning to ask aloud. If anything it was a polite bemusement in them, the very last thing he expected.

“Yes… I can?”

“You’re not sure???”

“Well… I think I can.” – he smiled.

_Smiled!_ Starscream sputtered mutely, for the first time in his function finding no words to adequately express his thoughts. Even Thundercracker, calm, unflappable old TC had his wings in a surprised angle. Skywarp ogled the young flier like he would a strange, offworld bug. Neither of them would speak up unless invited to do so, but their shock was clearly felt in the trine-bond.

“Can you?”

From anymech else Starscream would have taken it as a deliberate insult – probably rightly so. But the Iaconian prince smiled so innocently at him, so openly and trusting, so… so naïve that the Seeker Lord couldn’t find it in himself to get furious. Even so, all sets of wings in the room, aside from the Iaconian of course, shot up in a shocked display of anger. Fireflight continued to smile politely, like he had no fear.

“I… am… a Seeker.” – Starscream could finally get it out without any further ado. - “Flying is what we do. But you… you are…”

“Not a Seeker. I understand.” Fireflight came closer and looked at all of them interestedly, still with his naïve way and innocent smile that Starscream started to suspect was not affected, but natural to him “But I can fly, like all of us. I mean my brothers. We like flying.”

At least he wasn’t completely a grounder mentally… Starscream collected his thoughts. The young flier was naïve, probably more so than it was healthy for a royal, but not stupid. Still, his nobles would tear him apart if they realized that he was really this naïve and trusting.

“Come, sit.” – Starscream forced politeness unto himself – “I would like to know you better.”

“Who are they?” – Fireflight asked while he sat and accepted the offered plate from Skywarp with various Vosian delicacies on it – “I know who you are, Winglord, but…”

“My trine. Thundercracker and Skywarp.”

“I see. What’s a trine?” – he nibbled on a gelled, silver-coated roll – “Ohhh! It’s amazing!”

Starscream automatically noted his preference, even while he stared at the oblivious mech in a near shock. It was starting to get old, how many time the Iaconian could shock them in a scant few breems. Thundercracker’s face was drawn into a pained grimace and Skywarp stared with open mouth, holding his own treat. Their shock must have been palpable, because Fireflight’s blue optics widened slightly.

“I’m sorry… should I have known that? I’m afraid I don’t pay a lot of attention to studies, that’s more like Skydive’s resort.” 

“It… it’s…” – Starscream paused. How did one explained trine to one who had no idea about it? – “They are almost like brothers, though we are not related by energon. We live together, fly together… and we have a low level spark-bond, called trine-bond.”

“I see! So they are your mates!”

“Not… quite… they could be, but I, as Winglord are expected to bond with royalty.”

“And you considered me and my brothers? We… I suppose we are honored by your interest.”

Starscream nodded but frowned, wings quivering a little with bemusement. The persistent ‘we’, the young flier was talking with signified either a very strong connection between the siblings or a very weak sense of self in particular. Both would be a hindrance should he choose to pursue the mech since he had absolutely no intention of taking more than one mate. Even one was a concession. A weak, sub mate wouldn’t be a problem for a Winglord… had Starscream himself not been a sub, secretly of course, behind the closed doors of a berthroom where he played with his trinemates, or an occasional other lover. 

“Could you leave your brothers? Have you ever parted from them?” 

It was in reaction to this question, an obvious one in the situation, that Fireflight showed fear and worry for the first time. Agitated enough to put down the aluminum jelly he was sampling – and sharing with the equally sweet-dentaed Skywarp who has been pointing out for him the best treats – he looked at Starscream with wide optics.

“I’ve never left them. I wouldn’t want to.”

“You would have to, sooner or later. Or want to stay hidden in this palace forever, almost grounded?”

_::Star, he is barely adult. Don’t frighten him with leaving his family. It can be discussed later - if you decide on any of them.::_

Starscream dipped a wing closer to Thundercracker and changed the topic. He wasn’t enthusiastic about the young Iaconian prince, not in the least. There was, plainly put nothing common between them, no chemistry, no lust, no common interests… if he wasn’t still interested just messing with the fliers, he would have left there and then. As it was, he endured a few more breems of inane small talk that revealed nothing new about the young flier and thanked Flashlight for the opportunity when he returned. There were two more of the brothers he might find a bit more to his liking.

**Author's Note:**

> klik – Cybertronian second, breem - Cybertronian minute, joor – Cybertronian hour, orn/cycle – Cybertronian day, groon – Cybertronian month, vorn – Cybertronian year


End file.
